The Dalliance of the Eagles
by GypsyQueen
Summary: Spike came looking for acceptance, from Angel, after the Apocalypse was diverted and he found it. Now, if only Angel can keep him out of trouble... The rating will not go up cause it's finished! Read it!
1. The Dalliance of the Eagles

Disclaimer: I don't own BTVS or Angel, although I would pay good money for them, if I had it to spend. I don't own Angel, Spike, or Connor, but if I did I would throw them onto a giant trampoline and make them jump for all their worth. Joss Whedon is the genius behind the shows and he is just kind enough to let me play with them for a while, seeing as how I promise to give them back after I'm done. (Although, I didn't promise that they would be intact.)  
  
This story is directly related to my story "Admittance". You won't be lost if you read one without reading the other, but it helps to see what is going on in the boy's heads, a little.  
  
I'm gonna' catch you up, just in case. The apocalypse is diverted, once again. Spike shows up on Angel's doorstep with a soul and Angel was shocked. Spike wanted acceptance and they both came to the realization that Angel was more than willing to give it. (After lots and lots of brooding, on both guys parts.) Now, it is weeks later and Angel Investigations has gotten back into a sort of rhythm, only difference is Spike is part of the family. On with the show!  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles::  
  
Spike stomped in through the Hotel's front door and slammed it behind him. He was covered in gunk and wore a scowl that could crack glass. "I'm going to kill you Angel and after I kill you, I'm going to spread your ashes over my bed and roll around in them!"  
  
Angel walked out of his office, nonchalantly, and looked up at his childe over the book he was reading. He scrunched up his nose in disgust and grunted. "Spike, did you roll around in the sewer?" Angel dropped the book to his side and shook his head. "If you were bored, you could have come in my office and we could have talked or something."  
  
Spike shrugged his duster off of his shoulders, into a heap on the floor and sloshed over to where Angel stood. "I. Hate. You." He turned on his heals, made his way toward the stairs, and up to his room.  
  
It took Angel a moment to process what Spike had just said but when he had, he hurried after him. "Spike?" Angel stopped in front of the door and thought about knocking. The last thing he wanted was to be told to 'shove off', so he just walked in. "Spike?" Angel looked around the room and grimaced. Spike had shed his boots and apparently every piece of filthy clothing he had been wearing, on his way to the bathroom. The room was a wreck and it smelled like a barn. Angel walked over to the bathroom door and heard the shower running. He sighed and leaned against the door, talking through the wood. "What happened?"  
  
"I got attacked by a giant slug, thank you!" Spike yelled from the other side of the door. The sound of water hissed to a stop and Angel could hear Spike padding across the floor, most likely in search of a towel.  
  
"The towels are under the sink. I had Connor put them in there, earlier." Angel heard the squeak of a cabinet and smiled when he heard Spike muttering. "What's that? A thank you? Oh, don't worry about it." The door was jerked open, causing Angel to stumble forward and almost bulldoze Spike.  
  
Spike was, all but, snarling as he pushed past his Sire. He gripped his towel at his waist and made his way over to the bed, just to fall on his face. After burying his head into his pillow, he groaned. "Ahm ah bleedun?"  
  
"Bleeding?" Angel walked over to his childe and sighed. Scratches decorated his back, but none seemed to be bleeding, at the moment. "I'm going to ask once more. What happened?"  
  
Spike groaned into his pillow again and turned his face away from the older vampire. "I'm going to pretend you're not here and maybe you'll go away."  
  
"Now, you're just being childish. You know what? If you don't spill it, I'm going to have a seat on the edge of your bed here and then I'm going to force-feed your mind some poetry. So, who first? Blake? Shakespeare? How about Whitman? Come on, Spike, who do you feel like?"  
  
Spike turned his head toward Angel, when he felt the bed sink. "I feel like the man who is about to cut out your tongue, if you start reciting poetry." Spike let out an unneeded sigh and looked up at Angel, almost pleadingly. "Sire, do you think you could hold off on the twenty questions until the poison wears off. I'm feeling woozy."  
  
"Poison?!" Angel almost shrieked. "What were you fighting with? You said a giant slug. Were you being serious? I can go look it up..."  
  
"Sorry, for cutting you off, but you were starting to sound like a mother hen. Stop worrying. I'll be fine after I rest a little and eat something." Spike pushed at Angel's hip, in hopes that he would take the hint and leave, so he could get dressed. "Angel, do you mind? I could use some privacy. I wanna' put on some pants and then go downstairs to get some blood out of the fridge."  
  
Angel looked Spike over again and sniffed.  
  
"You start that again and I'll hurt you." Spike muttered, as his eyes drifted shut.  
  
"I wasn't sniffing like that. I was making a mental assumption and..." Spike's breathing was becoming deeper and more even, so Angel stood up and headed toward the door. "You get some rest, Spike. I'll go get you some blood." Angel walked out the door, sparing one last glance at his, now slumbering, childe. "Or we can put a rain-check on that."  
  
Angel shut the door quietly and walked down the hall. He couldn't help but wonder what Spike had gotten himself into this time. He had been at the Hotel for little less than six weeks and he had already been the victim of a drive by shooting, a mugging, and now a giant slug, which seemed to be venomous. His childe always seemed to be a magnet for trouble. He had drawn Angelus, had he not? Well, no need to go there.  
  
Angel made his way down the stairs and toward the kitchen. Connor sat in there on the counter, eating from a carton of ice cream and reading the Sunday comics. "Whatcha' readin'?" Angel asked as he headed over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of blood. He made his way over to the mugs, hanging over the sink and took one, emptying the contents of the bag inside.  
  
"Beatle Baily. He is actually pretty funny in that 'I'm an idiot' type of way. You know, kind of like Spike." Connor looked up from his newspaper and smiled in that charming way, he seemed to have mastered.  
  
Angel grinned at the microwave, as he set the time, and hoped his son didn't see. "Now, Connor, he doesn't talk about you like that." Angel tried to sound chiding, but it only came out amused.  
  
"Really?" Connor leaned back into the cabinets and sighed. "He talks about you like that, all the time."  
  
Angel turned to face his son, just in time to catch his grin. "You're joking, right?"  
  
"Of course, I am." Connor put down his empty ice cream carton and arched an eyebrow at his dad. "I wouldn't seriously tell you what Spike and I talk about, when we're alone."  
  
Angel looked skeptical for a moment and then continued with his questioning. "You and Spike talk, when you are alone?"  
  
"What did you think we did? Drink blood and talk about our wonderful bonding moments with you?" Connor picked his comics back up and flipped the page.  
  
"Actually, if I didn't know any better, I would say he's been giving you lessons in sarcasm." Angel turned toward the microwave and waited the last few seconds, for the mechanical beep to sound off. When it did he opened the door and pulled out the mug, bringing to his lips. He heard a sniff behind him and realized his mistake. He had tried to not drink around his son, as much as possible, because he knew of the feelings ingrained into him as a child. Angel tipped his mug and consumed the thick, rich liquid all in one draught. It was about time the boy got used to the way things were, around here.  
  
"You're not a vampire." Angel turned at the comment and caught the look of startled amusement on his son's face. "You're a pig. You got some..." Connor pointed to the right corner of his mouth and smirked.  
  
Well that was new. Maybe Spike was getting Connor used to the blood thing. Angel wiped his mouth, with the arm of his shirt and looked down at the new stain it caused. He shrugged and began to roll his sleeves up over his forearms. "I need new shirts, anyway."  
  
"You ruined a shirt, so you could get a new shirt. What are you, a woman?" Angel and Connor both looked toward the doorway and found Spike leaning against the frame. He had taken time to put on pants, but apparently he felt no need to wear a shirt. "I swear, sometimes I worry about you, Angel." Spike made his way over to the fridge and pulled out another bag of blood. He didn't bother to warm it up or put it in a mug. He just sunk his teeth in and sucked it dry. After pulling back, he cringed and tossed the bag at the garbage can, missing by about a foot. "I'll get that in a minute."  
  
Angel shook his head and went to pick up the bag. He knew that Spike's minutes and his minutes, seemed to run different courses. He turned back toward his childe and sighed. "So, are you going to tell me about this giant slug or are you going to start on what you're doing up so soon?"  
  
Connor seemed to take interest in the conversation, when he heard the word slug. "You were hurt." He stated it, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  
  
Angel hated when Connor did that. "Yes, he was hurt, but he won't say by what or how."  
  
"If you would stop asking questions, Angelus, and just start listening, I would satisfy your curiosity." Spike leaned up against a counter and hissed. The scratches on his back were starting to sting, as well as, burn. "First of all, I think you should know this is all your fault, Angel. You drive me to drink."  
  
Spike cleared his throat and started with his story. "Anyway, I went out for a drink and I got tackled by some bloke, in an alley. He wanted my wallet and he wanted..." Spike looked over at Connor and sighed. "...to hurt me. Anyway, he had this claw thing and he had it scraped up and down my back, before I could get in enough punches to take him down. He also tagged my thigh, but I'm sure it will be okay. I've been through worse and that was with you." Spike flicked his wrist in Angel's direction. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure the claw or dagger or whatever it was, was coated in poison or something, cause these scratches hurt like the devil."  
  
Spike rubbed his hand over his face and shook his head. "And then there was the slug. I was coming back toward the Hotel, when I heard a clanging sound, coming from a sewer lid. I walked over there, curiosity peaked, and all. I decided to check it out. Well, after dropping myself down there and following splashing noises I came upon a dead end. I turned around and started back the way I had come, just to be smashed by a giant jellied monster. He was heavy and slimy and I swear he smelled like a zoo. He seemed to be trying to suck something out of me and I realized what it was. He had smelled the blood on my back and he was leaching it out of me. Well, between the stinging pain the claws had inflicted and the giant jellied sucker monster on my back, it caused a couple of tears to squeeze out. The monster noticed and fled for cover. It was just gone. Tears have salt." Spike shrugged. "I figure it was a slug, cause they are hurt by salt. Plus, it was real slimy."  
  
Angel stood there looking at Spike, his jaw hanging open. "A giant jellied sucker slug and a mugger with a poison dipped weapon?"  
  
Spike nodded. He agreed that it was crazy and he wanted Angel to know that the audacity of the situation had not escaped him. "Angel, you seem to be having a harder time accepting this than I do and it happened to me."  
  
"That's because I won't accept this, Spike!" Angel clenched his fist and slammed it down on the nearest counter, causing both Connor and Spike to jump. "Every time I turn around you are being attacked."  
  
Spike's eyes had grown wide at the sudden burst of emotion from his Sire. "What's worse is I get attacked every time *I* turn around. Look, Angel, it's not like you can help that I'm a magnet for the baddies." This comment did nothing to quell Angel's anger.  
  
Connor took in the situation, with interest. His father didn't usually let his emotions get the better of him, unless someone or something was hurting himself or one of the others at Angel Investigations.  
  
"No, that I can't help, but there is another way to keep you safe." Angel rose an eyebrow at his childe and grinned, in what could be considered an evil fashion.  
  
Spike was obviously worried by this proclamation. "And just what do you mean by that, Angelus? You gonna give me a body guard or are you just going to tie me up someplace, so's I can't go anywhere." Angel nodded and a squeal got caught in Spike's throat. "You can't do that." He croaked. "I can't be followed around and I damned sure can't just hang around here all the time!" Spike was pacing now. He stopped to point an accusing finger into Angel's face. "I use the term 'hang around' loosely, Angelus. Don't you start getting ideas, or I promise to all that is dark and lovely, I will dust you before you can 'shan' your 'shu', you got me."  
  
Angel looked slightly amused at Spike's display of independence, but he didn't say anything.  
  
Connor decided to give his opinion, to the distress of both Angel and Spike. "Angel, isn't Spike almost as old as you?"  
  
Angel nodded. "Doesn't matter."  
  
"Doesn't matter?" Both Connor and Spike asked in unison.  
  
"Doesn't matter." Angel stated firmly. "Spike is still my childe and as long as..."  
  
"Angel!" Spike interrupted his Sire with a growl. "You finish with, 'As long as he lives under my roof' and all that crap, and I will give Connor a reason to get out that new Dirt Devil, Fred insisted on buying, even though nobody uses it."  
  
Connor's eyes grew wide. "I'm not sure I've ever heard anyone put so many thoughts into one sentence."  
  
"You'd be surprised what all Spike can do when he's been pushed to do it."  
  
The lilt in Angel's voice had a hint of something to it that Spike didn't appreciate and he wanted to make sure Angel knew about it. "Connor, how about you leave me and daddy dearest alone, while you go get the vacuum."  
  
Angel took a step toward Spike and waved Connor away. "Go watch TV or something."  
  
Connor nodded quietly and headed out of the kitchen. He wasn't sure what was going on between Spike and his dad right now, but he knew it wasn't good. It was hard to pin whether it was a vampire thing or a guy thing. Either way, it seemed that there was going to be a fight for dominance and Connor didn't want to be sucked into the middle of it.  
  
Spike clenched his fists at his sides and growled in the back of his throat. "Angel, if you don't explain yourself..."  
  
Angel shook his head firmly and narrowed his gaze, causing Spike to falter. "William, don't finish that thought. You only end up making threats that we both know you can't carry out. So. Just. Don't."  
  
Angel's resolve was so solid that it made Spike feel weaker, almost humbled. Plus, Angel had called him William. When was the last time angel called him William? He shifted his gaze down to his feet and shrugged. "So you know that I can't bring myself to kill you. So?"  
  
"I think that it is important that you know that I wouldn't kill you either and if it is in my power, and it is, I am going to make sure nothing else kills you. I feel responsible for you. Spike if you roll your eyes at me again, I will punch you hard enough that you'll be spitting out blood. Always remember, I don't make threats that I don't plan on keeping."  
  
Spike sparred Angel a smirk. "Some things never change."  
  
Angel nodded and walked back over to the counter, so he could lean. "Well, you better be glad that some things do change. If you had come home in this condition a hundred years ago..."  
  
"I would have been tethered to a bed and had hot pokers put into me." Spike said it with a grimace, which made Angel laugh. "You are twisted, Angel. I can't believe you still get a kick out of that."  
  
"No, it's the look you had on your face. When you referred to the... You had a look on your face like you were referring to a particularly bad ballet or something. Not torture." Angel waved his hand in the air, as if he hoped that would move his thought process along to his childe.  
  
Spike nodded with a grin. "Ballet. Torture. What's the difference?"  
  
Angel laughed openly and shook his head. "You were never one for the finer things, were you Wills?"  
  
"Not if it had to do with me dressing up in ribbons and bows, just to be paradedaround by you or Darla. 'A decadent time' my arse. Guys don't wear ribbons and bows. End. Of. Story." When he and Angel talked like this, he almost felt almost human. Almost normal.  
  
Angel shook his head in denial. "It was the times. I can't believe you are still worrying over those frocks you wore back then." Angel headed out of the kitchen and into the lobby.  
  
"Those frocks you made me wear!" Spike exclaimed, as he followed Angel into the next room.  
  
Angel let out an exasperated sigh and dropped on the couch. "It's what everybody wore, Spike. What else would you have worn? Would you have walked around naked? Decadent times or not, I'm not sure that would have gone over so well. The only one who would have had a true appreciation would have been Dru and that's because she was crazy!"  
  
Spike followed his Sire's lead and took a seat. "Let's not even go there, Angelus! Dru would have had an appreciation, cause she had an eye for true beauty." Spike was getting into the argument, but it seemed that Angel didn't want to continue, if the look on his face said anything. "You know that I'm just joshing with you, right Angel?"  
  
Angel leaned his head back into the couch and chuckled. "No, you aren't. You truly believe you are a work of art and even though it's kind of annoying, that's not why I got quiet." Angel glanced over at Spike and grinned.  
  
"Just cause we are on good terms, right now, doesn't mean I agree with you on those things you said about a bodyguard." Spike figured he should get it off his chest before Angel got any more foolish ideas.  
  
"I didn't say anything about a bodyguard. You did. And, just so you know, you don't have to agree with me for me to be right." Angel closed his eyes and sighed. He could practically feel the anger coming off of Spike, in waves.  
  
Spike pushed himself up out of his seat and stomped toward the stairs. "You're a real sod sometimes, Angelus."  
  
Angel smiled to himself and shook his head. "I never said I wasn't."  
  
TBC  
  
Okay, reviews will make the writing go faster or stop all together. You decide. Writing, for me, is 50% muse and 50% encouragement. I have my muse; all I need is that extra little push. Thanks guys! *throws kisses*  
  
-Oh, and if you're wondering the name of this fic came from a poem by the, almost obscenely talented, writer and poet Walt Whitman- 


	2. On Time

Thank You for all of the encouragement guys! You are the best. Okay, you know the drill. I don't own the guys, but I wish I did. If I did own them, they would be forever doing parodies of Steven Speilberg's greatest works. Except Spike. I would have him dress up like Spiderman and jump around my room. Anyway... On with the show.  
::Dalliance of the Eagles- On Time::  
  
Angel turned over in his sleep and hit the alarm clock, to make the insistent beeping stop. After struggling to find the right button long enough, he finally woke up and ripped the cord from the wall. He settled into his mattress face first and buried his head in his pillow. Dreams were haunting him again. They weren't like his dreams with Darla. No, these were full of blood and screaming... and Spike. Angel growled into his pillow, then turned over on his back. He had no intentions of getting out of bed, but for some reason he felt that he needed to get downstairs.  
  
After trying, in vain, to lift his head from its place in his pillow, Angel resorted to just rolling out of the bed. He landed on hands and knees, hoping to heaven above that nobody would barge in and ask what was making all the noise. How was he supposed to explain that, after sleeping all day, he was still too tired to actually pick himself up out of bed and walk like a normal non-human being? And what was he supposed to do now? Crawl downstairs? Well, he could call Spike... Or not.  
  
Angel gathered his strength and pushed himself up onto his feet. He straightened his boxer shorts and walked over to his closet, grabbing the most comfortable pair of pants he could reach. There was no need to dress up, so he yanked a tee shirt out of his top drawer and pulled it over his head and down over his chest. Silk was nice, he thought, but sometimes there is just no substitute for an old cotton tee shirt.  
  
After walking into the bathroom and splashing cold water on his face, to wake himself up, Angel headed out into the hall and toward the stairs. He stopped at the head of the stairs and listened, for a moment. A quiet murmur was starting to resonate in the lobby and Angel suddenly wanted to be a part of it. He took the stairs two at a time and smiled when he saw Wesley and Spike discussing something.  
  
"If I heard correctly, and I'm sure I did, it was an anachronism and that's what he had planned for it to be." Wesley stated his view and settled back into his swivel chair, behind the desk.  
  
"It wasn't so much an anachronism, as a prolepsis. An anachronism gives the feel that the writer did it on purpose, you know, to be profound or something, but a prolepsis is more of a screw up. I don't think that Shakespeare even realized the mistake, until one of his close friends said, 'Hey, Shake... Why did you say the clock struck twelve, when they didn't have clocks in ancient Rome?' and the old boy answered 'Oh, it was... an anachronism' just so he wouldn't look stupid." Spike took a drag off of the cigarette that was hanging from his fingertips and sighed out a puff of smoke.  
  
Angel could hardly believe the calm and intelligent way Spike was handling himself, in his conversation with Wesley. It was interesting, the changes that Spike had gone through since they had talked last. Albeit, the circumstance were a lot different than they had been, but still...  
  
"You have an amazing way of simplifying the most complex matters." Wesley shook his head in disagreement with Spike's last statement. "Nonetheless, I don't think that's right, Spike."  
  
Spike pointed his cigarette at Wesley and smirked. "I'm not sure you are thinking, at all, Wes. Just cause he was British, doesn't mean he was infallible. Lots of British guys make mistakes."  
  
Angel snuck up behind Spike's stooping form and whispered in his ear. "Do you?"  
  
Spike threw his elbow back into Angel's gut, making the older vampire wince and double over, slightly. "Yeah, like keeping my back turned toward the stairs. Don't do that sneaking thing. I hate it."  
  
Angel nodded his apology and rubbed his aching belly. "You didn't have to hit me."  
  
"Well, you know, it's the one night I decide to stay here and hang out, so's you don't worry yourself into a state. I guess I should expect something horrible and unexpected, don't you?" Spike shrugged and grinned over at Wesley, who seemed to get the joke that Angel was so obviously missing.  
  
"What's up, Spike?" Angel asked, now almost fully drained of his will to move, talk, listen, or stand. On that note, he took a couple of steps backwards and collapsed on the couch.  
  
Spike shook his head and shrugged. "Nothing, Sire. What's up with you? You look like you just aged a couple of hundred years. You're not turning into a bat, are you? Cause all though you've got all that lovely hair, I'm pretty sure it won't make up for pointy ears. You would look horrible with pointy ears."  
  
Angel sent a harsh glance over at his childe and sighed. "I'm not going to get pointy ears."  
  
"Oh, that's right. You are going to become human and live out your mortal days, in peace and harmony." Spike leaned back, resting his elbows on the counter. His cigarette had burned down to the butt and he absentmindedly flicked it behind the counter, so it landed at Wesley's feet.  
  
Wesley stared at the cigarette butt and sighed silently. "Although, he put it about as gently, as a freight train, Spike's right Angel." Wesley looked up at the darker man curiously. "Is something the matter."  
  
Angel threw his head back into his seat; eyes open, staring ahead blankly. "I'm having dreams again, Wes."  
  
"Is it Darla?" Wesley's interest was peaked. He remembered how Angel had been altered, during the time Darla haunted his dreams.  
  
Spike looked in between the two men, confused. He knew that he had to be missing something. Six weeks was not enough time to catch up on the happenings around this place.  
  
Angel grunted a sort of laugh. "No, it's Spike."  
  
Wesley and Spike, both stared at Angel expectantly. Wesley was first to speak up, though. "Are... ahem... the dreams like they were with... Darla?"  
  
Angel's head snapped up and he sent a pointed glance at the overly curious man, behind the counter. "No, but if they were do you think I'd tell you?"  
  
Wesley nodded, in an accepting way. "Point taken."  
  
Spike narrowed his gaze at both men and harumph-ed. "Angelus, what are you bloody fools prattling on about? What dreams with Darla?"  
  
"We'll talk about it later, Will." Angel's voice was stern, having that no nonsense quality that made Spike's blood boil.  
  
"Well, then what was your dream last night about? If I was in it, maybe I can help you make sense of whatever it was."  
  
Angel shook his head. If Spike insisted on helping him, this could end up in being more trouble than it was worth. "It's just a dream, Spike. Nothing more."  
  
"It's never just a dream, Angelus. You know it and I know it. If it has to do with your Childer or your Sire, it's not just a dream. Now, you had better tell me what has gotten you upset, all of the sudden." Spike walked over to where Angel was lounging and put on the best obstinate look he could muster. "Well?"  
  
Angel looked Spike over levelly and almost growled. "Torture, death, blood, dust, you."  
  
"And?" Spike quirked a brow. Apparently, he wasn't satisfied that this was all that had Angel in a snit.  
  
"And? Does there have to be more?" Angel pushed himself up out of his seat and made his way toward his office.  
  
"That's not all, Angelus." Spike called after his Sire. "You would protect me and I know it. You make that promise, with your eyes every time you look at any of us. Something else has you spooked."  
  
Angel answered his childe by slamming his office door.  
  
Spike shook his head and ran his fingers through the peroxide colored locks. "Something else. Well, I'm very much the bored one. You wanna' go get smashed and paint the town red?" Spike looked over at Wesley, with a grin.  
  
Wesley chuckled to himself and got up out of his seat. "I could use a drink." Wesley picked his coat up off the counter and slipped it on. "Just one thing, Spike. If the town is going to be painted red, can we try to make sure it's not our blood."  
  
Spike laughed and nodded. "Well, this is LA. Anything can happen. I won't promise anything, but I'll try not to get into trouble."  
  
"Do you ever have to try?" Wesley asked mirthlessly, as they made their way to the door.  
  
"Not really." Spike answered, while he slipped on his coat and out into the night air.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
After drinking his fill, Spike glanced around the bar, in search of Wesley. The man had told Spike that he was going to the bathroom over ten minutes ago and Spike was pretty sure that it didn't take that long to do your business, unless you were a woman. Spike laughed at the alcohol-induced image of Wesley putting on makeup in the men's room and then groaned. He would probably get a hang over this time around. It wasn't impossible for a vampire to get drunk or have a hangover; it was difficult, but not impossible. Spike welcomed the floating sensation he had, as he got off of his stool and laid a bill on the counter.  
  
He walked back toward the bathrooms and listened for Wesley's voice. After a moment, he heard the British tones, slightly slurred by the alcohol he had been drinking. Angel was going to be pissed. Ha! Pissed that he was pissed! Gods, Spike thought, How much did I drink? He made his way in the direction of Wesley's slightly altered voice and smiled when he saw the man, sitting in a booth in the back corner, arm wrapped around a beautiful little blonde woman.  
  
Spike put on a serious face and glided over to their table. "Excuse me." The woman looked up at him and he couldn't help but smile. Good taste, Wes, was all his mind could come up with. "Umm... This man is needed."  
  
"I know." She breathed. "I need him."  
  
Spike's muddled mind was trying to process what the woman was saying. All he needed was to find something to say, so he could get Wesley back to the Hotel, before Angel decided to come looking for them and they would be home free. Seeing as how the truth was strange enough, Spike decided to have some fun. "He's a doctor and there is a little girl who needs him to do surgery tomorrow. I have to get him sober so she can give her a new heart."  
  
"Well, I'm not so needy." She almost whispered. She was stroking Wesley's chest and he seemed perfectly content to let her do so, as long as she wanted. "I just want a spleen."  
  
What?! Warning bells went off in Spike's head. Even to a drunken vampire, that comment sounded strange. He grabbed the small woman's collar and hauled her up out of her seat. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"Eep!" She squealed. "I was just... joking. You said that she needed a heart... I was joking!" Spike dropped the woman on the edge of the table and she reached for her, now tender neck. "I'm getting out of here. Guys in LA are just too weird." The woman mumbled all the way out the door.  
  
Wesley was giving Spike a confused glance. "What was that about?" Wesley waved at the bench across from him, inviting Spike to take it.  
  
"She said she wanted a spleen. Does that sound like a joke to you?" Spike took the proffered seat and sighed into his hands.  
  
"Well, it may seem like a joke to those who aren't forced into a business where chasing spleen eating monsters is part of the job description." Wesley offered agreeably. "She was pretty though, wasn't she?"  
  
Spike nodded with a small smile. "Sorry about ruining your night. You could have had her number if you had wanted, and I went and screwed it up."  
  
Wesley waved off the apology and laughed. "No apologies necessary. You were concerned about my spleen. It happens."  
  
Spike sat looking at the man in front of him, his jaw unhinged. "How drunk are you, Wes?"  
  
"I refuse to acknowledge that question." Wesley swung his legs around, until he was slipping out of his chair and standing on the floor. "See my motor skills are tip top."  
  
Spike decided to humor the man and nodded. "Yeah, and you can say a whole two words without slurring!" Spike said with a smile.  
  
Wesley started for the front of the bar where, he was pretty sure, he would find a door. "Well, I'm sober enough to know that you are patronizing me. Stop it." Wesley grabbed for Spike's, sleeve as he swayed on his feet. "Maybe I am slightly tipsy."  
  
Spike nodded in agreement, but said nothing. He seemed to be walking fine and he didn't mind giving Wesley a hand for a couple of yards. "Just hold on to my arm. I can get us a cab."  
  
"I can walk!" Wesley stated indignantly.  
  
"You can fall and break your neck and then Angel can whip me until *I* can't walk." Spike shook his head. "No, I'm getting you a cab."  
  
"Us a cab?" Wesley asked.  
  
"No, you a cab. I think I'll take a walk and clear my head. Maybe see what's going down at the docks. You know, get myself good and mangled before I get home, so Angel will have pity on me and decide not to kill me, for getting one of his pet humans drunk." Spike grinned at the confused looked etched on Wesley's face. "Or maybe I'll just walk home. Dunno' which I wanna' do. Guess I'll see how I feel once I start walkin'."  
  
It seemed that while Spike and Wesley had been inside the bar, the rain had started falling. Spike made Wesley wait on the curb, while he tried hailing a cab. None would stop and he just ended up frustrated and wet. "Wes, looks like we're going to have to walk it."  
  
Spike took a few steps backwards, until he was back on the sidewalk, and was looking down at Wesley's trembling form. The man had taken a seat on the piece of curb he had claimed and was fighting to keep down his alcohol. "I think I'll just sleep here tonight."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and pulled Wesley up by the arm. "Nope. I gotcha' drunk, I'm not lettin' you freeze too."  
  
"You didn't get me drunk. I got me." Wesley was cut off by a scream. Both of the men turned toward the alley and groaned. "I don't feel like saving anyone." Wesley stated tiredly.  
  
"Then don't. Have a seat and I'll be right back." Spike let go of his friend's arm and crept down the alleyway, where they had heard the scream. All he could see was shadows and darkness and... a dead woman. "Damn." Spike headed over to the lifeless body and crouched down to get a better look. "Well, I guess she wasn't a spleen eating monster." The pretty little blonde, that Spike had wrongfully assaulted, was lying there, stomach split open, entrails missing. "But it looks like someone is."  
  
Spike got up from the ground and made his way back to Wesley. "You're girlfriend's dead." He stated, devoid of emotion.  
  
"Another one?" Wesley shook his head incredulously. He looked back up at Spike, hopefully. "Do you think this one'll come back to life."  
  
Spike shrugged as an answer, but in all honesty he was pretty sure this girl was as dead as dead could get. "We better get home. Angel will wanna' hear about it. Damn."  
  
"He's going to be mad at you." Wesley nodded to emphasize his point. "You went out after saying you wouldn't and you got in trouble again."  
  
Spike chose not to acknowledge the statement and yanked Wesley down the sidewalk. "It's funny. Other guys get drunk and they just get stupid. You get drunk and you just automatically state the obvious."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Nevermind." Spike said on a sigh. "Let's go, Wes. I gotta figure out how to tell Angel about our night on the town." Spike's grip on Wesley was shaken free, when the younger man ran for the bushes and proceeded in throwing up. Spike shook his head. "Damn."  
  
TBC  
  
Ditto on what I said last chapter about reviews.  
  
(The subtitle for this chapter was called 'On Time', which happens to be a poem by the wonderfully talented John Milton. I felt like being ironic and that's why this chapter is named, as such.) 


	3. Miranda

Ahem... I don't own Connor or Spike, but I accidentally hit Angel with my car and I'm not sure I wanna' give him back. I'm going to nurse him back to health and see how I feel about it, once he's healthy again. Anyway, Joss Whedon is a genius, I'm not worthy, and you are the nicest reviewers I have ever come in contact with. Kisses and cookies! Now, on with the show!  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- Miranda::  
  
"Angel, what are you thinking?" Spike had been standing there, soaked to the bone, Wesley hanging on his arm, for over five minutes, while Angel collected his thoughts. Wesley groaned quietly, as his stomach started to flip over for the third time.  
  
"Wesley, maybe you should go upstairs." Angel said, finally breaking the silence he had been sitting in. "We could get Lorne to help you."  
  
Wesley drooped on Spike's arm and the vampire let go of his hold, allowing the man to slip to the ground in one fluid motion. "Wes?"  
  
Wesley lay back on the ground and waved his hand at Spike. "'s okay. Sleep." He muttered on a yawn.  
  
"This is completely out of character." Spike thought out loud. "I wonder if someone slipped you something."  
  
"You think some one slipped me a... what's it? A... umm... drugs?" Wesley almost laughed at the thought. "Imagine, someone trying to take advantage of me!" Wesley looked down his crumpled form and chuckled. "I'm a mess."  
  
"Self-depreciating git, aren't you?" Spike crossed his arms across his chest, in an uncomfortable fashion. He spared Angel a glance, just to see how mad his Sire was about this certain situation. Angel didn't look angry, so much as amused.  
  
"If I had found him in this situation nine months ago, I would have tore out his heart and eaten it." Angel's eyes didn't leave Wesley's prone form, a moment. He really didn't know why he had said what he had, even if it was true, and he wasn't sure he wanted to explain the statement to Spike, even if he could.  
  
Spike was in shock. "Truly? Were you soulless nine months ago?"  
  
"No. Try three months ago. That's why we called on Willow. She re-ensouled me." Angel looked up at his Childe and found a playful smirk worming it's way onto his face. "What?" Spike chuckled in a knowing fashion. "What?!"  
  
"Who'd you shag?" Spike's grin grew. "Was it Cordy? Or maybe it was Twiggy... umm.. Fred. No, she's not your style. It wasn't one of the... Naw. You've been stickin' to the birds, as of late." Spike looked thoughtful. "Don't you gotta' love 'em, for it to zap away your soul?"  
  
"Spike, my soul is safe." Angel opened a drawer at his desk and shuffled through its contents, just to have something to do. "I had it done on purpose."  
  
"You're bloody teasin' me an' you know it." Spike snarled. "Why would you, Mr. bleedin' 'Save the World so I Can Be Human' get rid of your soul and let Angelus run amuck through your city?"  
  
"There's too much to that story Spike. It could take forever to tell it all." Angel gave Spike a pleading look, but his Childe was relentless.  
  
Out of pure frustration, Spike started pacing up and down the office floor. "I have forever, Angel, and so do you. Now, if you don't wanna' tell the story, fine... But do tell me why you didn't think to call and tell me about you being the scourge of bloody Europe, again!" Spike face grew red, with the borrowed blood he had consumed earlier that night. He wasn't only mad; he was outraged that Angel wouldn't have him contacted before he did something so dumb. (Plus, he was more than a little annoyed that Angelus hadn't bothered to call him up, for old time's sake. Of course, he would never admit it.)  
  
"Spike, you are getting mad over nothing." Angel stood up and walked around his desk, to where Spike had been standing, moments before. "Remember, I had no clue you had a soul. Did you even have a soul at that time?"  
  
"Yes." Spike stopped pacing. "I'm tired of this. Why aren't we out doing that thing with the fists and the swords, that makes us feel all manly?  
  
Angel thought a moment. "Going to a Renaissance Festival?"  
  
Spike's jaw fell open at his Sire's hideously awful joke. "Now I know I gotta' kill something. Sometimes you make me feel like The Hulk. You know that? Losta' testosterone and I got nowhere to put it." He headed over to a trunk and lifted the lid, pulling out an old fashion mace. "Still into your toys, eh pet?"  
  
"I thought you wanted a sword." Angel made his way to the other vampire and lifted the mace out of his hands. "Don't play with it. It's an antique." He placed it back in the trunk and closed the lid.  
  
"The other kid's mums collect antique furniture. Mine collects antique weaponry." Spike sighed and looked down at Wesley's sleeping form. "What we gonna' do about him?"  
  
Angel shrugged. "I suppose he should just sleep it off. Huh..."  
  
"What's that?" Spike asked, curiously.  
  
Angel shrugged. "He snores."  
  
"Yeah, well you're one to talk. You sound like a steam ship comin' into harbor, when you sleep. You talk too. 'Specially when you are in the middle of a particularly nasty dream."  
  
Angel narrowed his gaze at Spike. "And you know this how?"  
  
"Hello, Angelus. I'm Spike. I used to live wit' you way back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. It just so happens that I had a hard time sleepin', every now and again. I watched you sleep to pass the time." Spike smirked at the sensory image he was developing. "I know it sounds creepy, but it calmed me down. Dru would frustrate me or Darla would just be Darla and you would be the head 'o the house, sleepin' like a new born babe. And when you weren't sleepin' like a baby..." Spike stopped there and ran his fingers through his hair.  
  
"What?" Angel's interest was pricked by this sudden revelation Spike had so easily slipped into and so earnestly tried to back out of. "Don't stop there, boy." Spike's head snapped up and his eyes widened. Angel hadn't realized that he had just addressed Spike in Angelus' favorite term, nor did he care. Right now he was curious and Spike *would* satisfy his curiosity.  
  
Spike's jaw opened and shut, like he was trying to make words, but the refused to come out. He finally just shrugged. "I would wait it out with you. Darla was off with Dru, Penn would be, God knows where, and you would scream so loud. You had no one else." Spike sighed, his face had grown red again, this time from embarrassment.  
  
Angel tried not to look too smug, after hearing Spike's confession. It wouldn't do if Spike saw his expression and decided never to talk about these things again. So what would be the right thing to say, at this juncture? "Oh." Yup, that about summed it up.  
  
Spike let out a nervous laugh and then scoffed. About what, he wasn't sure. It just felt like the right thing to do. "What are we women? No offense." Spike said to Wesley's limp and lifeless form. Angel couldn't help but chuckle at Spike's attempt to break the tension. "Come on, Sire. Let's go kill us a spleen eating monster."  
  
Angel almost turned down his Chile's offer, but he realized that if he did, Spike may just go out on his own. "Okay, but a few ground rules."  
  
Spike scrunched up his nose, but said nothing.  
  
"First rule is, I tell you to get out of the way, get back, get down, or just get and you will obey me. Secondly, when I say we are going home, that means we are going home. Spike, don't look at me like that. I don't want you any more dead than you already are. Okay?"  
  
Spike pushed Angel out of his way and stomped over to the desk, to pick up his duster. He slipped it on and headed out of the room. Angel shook his head and sighed. He made his way after Spike, only to find himself flat on his back, the moment he stepped out the door.  
  
"You may be my Sire, but you are not my daddy." Spike hissed at the vampire, pinned beneath his weight. "I humor you more than anyone else I have ever met, including Drusilla," He lifted Angel by the lapels of his shirt, until they were almost nose to nose and growled, "but I think you should know that I could stop at any moment. I don't have to obey you and I can take care of myself!" Spike let go of Angel's shirt, causing the older vampire's head to hit the hard wood floor, and pushed himself up and away from his Sire.  
  
Angel was dazed, to say the least. He had hardly noticed the way his head had cracked against the flooring, when Spike had let him go. What he noticed was a very frustrated vampire pacing, or stomping, up and down the lobby floor. "Spike..."  
  
Spike stopped in his tracks and waited for his Sire to kick his butt out, on the street.  
  
"I understand." Angel pushed himself up off the ground and dusted the back of his pants off.  
  
Spike hadn't realized he had been holding his breath, but it came out in a gush, when Angel had stood up. He didn't know what to say, so he just said nothing.  
  
"I understand, but if you tackle me again, I'm going to whip your cold, dead carcass, until I feel happy about it." Angel smiled sweetly, punctuating his words. "And that could take awhile, seeing as how I'm soul filled and all."  
  
Spike agreed that that was a fair arrangement and nodded.  
  
Angel walked over to the coat rack and pulled off his coat. "What's got you so high strung, anyway? Other than my little, over-protective bout, back there."  
  
Spike wasn't sure if he wanted to tell Angel, but he knew that he really couldn't stop himself. Lately, it had been next to impossible for him to hold back what he was thinking, or what he felt, especially to those closest to him. Wasn't that part of the reason he had left Sunnydale, and all that it implied, behind? "You still won't tell me about your dream."  
  
Angel would have laughed, if the mere mention of his nightmare hadn't sent a chill up and down his spine. "Nope." Angel said, as he pressed past his Childe and out to slay the demons.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Angel, just cut off it's head, why don't you!" Spike yelled at his Sire, as he kicked a gangly orange demon in, what he presumed was, it's gut.  
  
"It's hard to do that, when you are the one with the sword." Angel threw his head back, so that it connected with a crunch, with the face of the demon-creature that held him around the waist.  
  
Spike plunged said sword into the head of the orange monster and twisted the blade, harshly. Blue ooze spurted from the wound and stained the sword's blade. Spike unsheathed it from the creature's head and headed over to his Sire, who was now pummeling the face of his enemy. Gashes and cuts were decorating the monster's face, as a blazing intensity had taken over his Sire's. "Your sword?"  
  
"No. Don't want it." Angel said in between blows.  
  
"I never thought you would be into torturous deaths, Angel. I thought that was Angelus' job description." Spike held out the sword, just to have it snatched away.  
  
Angel pressed the blade under the creature's chin and pressed until he heard a satisfying squeal. "What are you?" The monster squirmed and bucked, but he had nothing on Angel. He was rewarded with a little more pressure on the sword. "I'll ask again. What are you? I know you are carnivorous or you wouldn't be eating homeless people, in an alleyway."  
  
"Technically, they aren't eating the people, just their insides." Spike seemed resigned to playing good cop, apparently.  
  
"Just like we didn't eat the people, just their blood? Same conclusion comes out of it. Dead people." Angel shifted the blade and the creature howled.  
  
"I don't think they understand us." Spike looked bored.  
  
Angel nodded and lifted the sword. He stood and looked down at the stunned monster, at his feet. "Oh well." He said, as he swung the blade and separated the monster's head from its body. Ooze splattered both Angel and Spike.  
  
"You're paying my dry cleaning." Spike muttered.  
  
"Don't I always?" Angel sighed. He wiped the sword on his pants, leaving blue streaks in its wake.  
  
"Were they in the dream?" Spike asked curiously.  
  
"No. Drop it." Angel said evenly, as he left the alleyway, the demons, and his childe behind.  
  
Spike hurried after Angel and fell in with the older vampire's footsteps. "You're going to tell me."  
  
"Yes." Angel agreed. "But not now."  
  
"Can I make guesses?" Spike continued.  
  
Angel groaned. He cupped his childe's neck and squeezed firmly. It wasn't a threat, but it had the promise of a threat. "Remember what I said about not allowing anything to hurt you?"  
  
"Yes." Spike smiled.  
  
"I'm about to take it back. I want to hurt you and I'm almost ready to humor myself." Angel took back his hand and let it drop to his side. "Why don't you find something else to occupy your mind with? Why don't you take up bird watching or give up smoking?"  
  
Spike audibly gasped at the comment. "Give up smoking? You are off your rocker, if you think I'm going to give up smoking!"  
  
Angel shrugged and slowed down his pace. "It wasn't an order, Spike. Just a suggestion."  
  
"A nutty suggestion." The younger vamp shook his head and gave Angel an unbelieving look. "Give up smoking." Spike scoffed for the second time that night. "Do you even know how stupid you are sometimes, Angelus?"  
  
"No. Do you realize that you call me Angelus just as much, or more, than you call me Angel?" Angel watched his feet, as they walked down the sidewalk. He had one hand shoved in his coat pocket and the other gripping the handle of an ornately designed sword. There was nothing weird going on here.  
  
Spike shrugged. "Force of habit."  
  
"I guess." Angel squinted up at the stars. They walked in silence, a while like that. Angel looking for constellations and Spike kicking rocks down the sidewalk.  
  
Spike finally broke the silence. "Connor needs a dog."  
  
Angel was taken back, for a second. Whatever Angel thought his childe would say next, didn't even come close to that. "A dog?"  
  
"What boy doesn't have a dog?"  
  
"I didn't have a dog." Angel said flatly.  
  
"Yeah, and look how great you turned out." Spike retorted. "The boy needs a dog. A big dog or a little dog. Nothing in between. A little one may teach him to take care of things weaker than him, while a big one may be a comfort, when he's afraid or something."  
  
"Why would he be afraid?" Angel asked, not liking the way this conversation was going.  
  
"I don't know. Why are you afraid over a little dream?" Spike asked  
  
"It's not just a dream." Angel muttered, almost quiet enough that Spike didn't hear him.  
  
"You admit it." Spike smiled. "I'm good at getting what I want." Spike stated, sure of himself and his powers of coaxing the truth out of Angel.  
  
"Don't look so smug." Angel said with a small smile. It never reached his eyes.  
  
"Now all I have to do, is find out what the dream was about." Spike thought out loud.  
  
"Your not that good." Angel laughed at the bewildered look that passed over Spike's face. Evidently, his childe had not meant to speak his thoughts. "We need to go check on, Wes. Race me back to the hotel." Angel was off like a shot, getting a head start, on Spike. He laughed at the string of expletives that left Spike's mouth. He almost wanted to let Spike win. Almost.  
  
TBC  
  
(I've had a busy weekend and had to find time to type. That's usually not a problem for me. Thank you for being patient and thank you for the reviews.)  
  
-The chapter was named Miranda for a reason. "Every day of his adult life Joseph Stalin shared his bed with a stuffed baby doll named Miranda." I heard that last night and I just thought that was pretty interesting and, more than a little, creepy. Anyway.- 


	4. Curiosity

I don't own 'Angel' or 'BTVS', but if I did it I would take Spike, Angel, Wesley, and Connor. That's it. I would take them. They would be mine and I would take them! Ah! Anyway, they are not mine and I can't take them because of that stupid restraining order. Yes, I have to order my body to restrain itself from moving to LA and making the boys mine. Anyway...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- Curiosity::  
  
"Stupid, stupid man." Spike grumbled, as he popped a peppermint in his mouth and bit into it. He wasn't sure whether he meant himself or Angel. After being beat to the hotel, the night before, Angel had declared that Spike owed him a reward. After a lot of grumbling, Spike had agreed. Now, he wished he had fought just a little harder. If he had, then maybe he would be smoking a very satisfying cigarette, instead of eating a little mint diskette that carried little to no satisfaction along with it.  
  
He remembered the argument so vividly that he still felt Angel's words bite into him. "Why should I quit smoking, Angel?" He had asked. It hadn't really mattered what Angel thought; there was hardly anything that would make him stop his favorite vice. "It's not like I can die from it or anything."  
  
"Yeah, that's true." Angel agreed. "But you could kill Connor." Angel stared at Spike levelly, as the younger vampire gaped. "He has a hard enough time as it is, without having to die of lung cancer."  
  
Spike didn't know what to say. It's not like he had assumed that the kid was immortal or anything. Maybe he had just thought of him not being susceptible to things, such as illness. "Well, I don't wanna' kill the kid. He's kinda' growin' on me."  
  
Angel smiled. "Good. You want a patch or gum or something?"  
  
Spike narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Would a patch even work? You know it has to go into the blood system and seeing as how it's all borrowed blood, anyway." Spike shrugged. He was stumped. "You know, the boy could still use a dog."  
  
Angel looked thoughtful. "I'll think about it."  
  
Spike knew that was going to be the best he could do for the time being, so he let it go. "I was just thinking... Don't look so amused, Angelus." Spike sighed. "I'm really not sure that the smoking is addiction, so much as habit."  
  
"Yeah, well, bad habits can be hard to break."  
  
Did Angel know what he was talking about, when he said that! Spike had already found himself biting on pen tops, eating hard candy, chewing on his fingernails, and talking his teeth out of eating the inner walls of his cheeks. "Got a blasted oral fixation, now, and it's all that pouf's fault."  
  
"What's that?" Wesley was standing in Spike's doorway, looking at the vampire, who was so casually sprawled on the bed. "May I come in?"  
  
"You may enter." Spike let out a chuckled and sighed. "I've always wanted to say that, in just that tone. Oh, how the tables turn, when you aren't paying attention." Spike lifted himself up, until he was leaning on his elbows and grinning at the British man, who was taking a seat in the armchair, across from his bed. "Got any gum?"  
  
Wesley shook his head. "Since when do you chew gum?"  
  
Spike settled back on his bed. "Since I'm not allowed to chew necks or smoke my ciggies. You are lucky I'm not coming over to your apartment and eating you out of house and home."  
  
Wesley shrugged, which was totally lost on Spike, seeing as how he was staring at the ceiling. "You're always welcome to come by."  
  
Spike sat up with a grin. "Was that an invitation?"  
  
Wesley returned the grin, with one of his own. "Yes, I believe it was."  
  
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen! I bet I'll have all of the others inviting me into their places next." Spike grabbed at his nightstand and yanked open a drawer, pulling out a handful of Skittles.  
  
Wesley raised an eyebrow and laughed. "What other treasures do you have in there, Spike?"  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know." He said, as he popped a couple of red Skittles in his mouth. "Want some? I don't like the green ones."  
  
"I thought the green ones were supposed to be the best." Wesley held out his palm, while Spike deposited some of his stash.  
  
"That's M&M's. They're hot. You know with the lips and the legs and heals." Spike said as he finished chewing.  
  
"M&Ms have legs and heals? Since when?" Wesley was confused at the turn in conversation, although, when he thought about it, most of his and Spike's conversations were pretty confusing. Why should this one be any different?  
  
"Don't you ever watch television?" Spike asked amusedly. Wesley was a pretty smart guy. Kind of reminded him of Angel. Smart in so many ways and, as far as pop culture was concerned, they were so very lost. "You know, bright picture boxes, with all the noise? Mine saved my life a couple of times. Would have died of boredom, without it. Plus there was that time I killed a Varnagra demon by strangling it with the... Wesley what's so funny?"  
  
Wesley covered his face with his hands and tried to fight the laughter that was bubbling to the surface.  
  
"If you are laughing about the word Vanagra, I am going to go find Angel and beg him to stake me good and proper." Spike shook his head, at the absurdity of it all. "I would have thought this was above you."  
  
Wesley laughed all the more, during Spike's rant. "It's not that, I swear." He said in between bursts of laughter. After gaining back a minute amount of composure, Wesley pointed at the nightstand.  
  
Spike looked over at his nightstand and gasped. "What in the bleedin' world are you doin' here?" Spike turned over onto his stomach and reached over to pick up a little kitten that sat on the small table by his bed, staring at him. "I can't believe I didn't sense you."  
  
"It was eating your Skittles, a moment ago."  
  
That cleared up the laughing fit, Spike mused. Spike took the opportunity to thump the kitten on the nose. "Eatin' my Skittles. Should be ashamed of yourself. Wesley had the decency to wait until they was offered to him. You should learn a lesson from this."  
  
Connor burst into the room. "Spike have you seen a... Oh." Connor smiled at the black and white kitten snuggling into Spike's torso. "You found Cat."  
  
"Cat?" Spike asked, a bit confused.  
  
"Angel got him for me." Connor walked over and lifted the small animal from Spike's grasp. "I'm calling him Cat until I can figure out a good name for him."  
  
"Call him Thief or Glutton. We found him choking down my Skittles." Spike crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. He wasn't really angry. He was bored and acting angry was helping alleviate the boredom, for a while.  
  
"Skittles..." Connor smiled. "I like it. Would you like to be called Skittles?" Connor asked the little fuzz ball, curled up in his arms.  
  
"He doesn't look like a Skittles" Wesley stood up and walked over to where the boy stood, with his cat. "He's kind of colorless."  
  
"Then the name will be ironic." Connor stiffened his jaw. "Plus, it will remind Spike of the first time he met Cat and it will remind me of the look of annoyance Spike wore, after the fact."  
  
Wesley nodded in amusement. "It was pretty funny."  
  
"Watch it, Wes. I don't have any ciggies to soften the blow. I'm kinda' wanting to eat your pet, Con." Spike would have given anything for his Sire to see the look of outrage on Connor's face. It was so like Angel. Not that Angel could even remember his own face, after so long without a reflection. But still.  
  
Connor hugged Cat, or Skittles, to his chest and scowled at the blonde vampire. "You wouldn't, would you?"  
  
"No." Spike answered truthfully. "Cat blood tastes like rat's and lead. I don't touch the stuff. Kitty Cat is safe. Well, that is, until he eats some of my stash again and then it's personal."  
  
Connor nodded. Evidently, the boy wasn't worried about the threat. Spike said he wouldn't hurt him. So, he wouldn't hurt him. "Skittles and I are going for a walk. Then, he's going to bed. I'm pretty sure I can train him, if I'm patient enough." Connor nuzzled the little animal, as it batted at his face, playfully. "I don't think we should de-claw him. Seems kind of mean. Like taking away a vampire's fangs."  
  
"Except your kitten isn't a vicious killer... yet." Two dark heads turned toward Spike and the vampire shrugged. "This is LA. It's not like it hasn't happened before."  
  
Connor nodded. "Well, Skittles is going to be a vicious mouse hunter, nothing more." Connor lifted Skittles up in the air and grinned at him. "I think we should go. It's getting late." With that, Connor turned around and made his way out the door, cat in tow.  
  
Spike laughed quietly. "It's funny."  
  
"What?" Wesley looked down at the vampire, on the bed, curiously.  
  
"I give a little, Angel gives a little." Spike shrugged. "Angelus was never so generous."  
  
Wesley sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Would he ever come to understand the people/demon's he lived and worked with? "What are you talking about, now, Spike?"  
  
Spike pointed at the door. "Cat. I made a sort of pact with Angel. I would stop smoking for the boy's sake and he would get the boy a pet." Spike frowned. "Of course, I said he should have a dog, but I'm sure I can allow it to slide, seeing as how Angel's being all accommodating."  
  
Wesley nodded. He didn't really understand what the Sire/Childe relationship with vampires implied, or the emotions that revolved around it, but he was pretty sure that Angel had just gained points on an invisible meter and/or he had tipped a magical scale in his favor.  
  
Spike grinned at the range of emotions that flitted across Wesley's face, as he reached into his nightstand and pulled back empty handed. "I'm gonna' eat it! That little kitten finished off me last Skittle!" Spike jumped up from his bed and bolted out the door in a blind fury.  
  
Wesley laughed, as he visualized a scale catapulting Angel and Skittles the Cat into an untold future.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~  
  
"If it had been a puppy, I would have understood! But the cat ate my Skittles. Cats don't eat Skittles!" Spike yelled at his Sire.  
  
The dark man just sat there, placidly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So Connor likes him?"  
  
Spike frowned at Angel and fought hard not to roll his eyes. "Yes. He likes the cat. He actually named it Skittles. The stupid thing is going to be taunting me for the rest of its life."  
  
Angel finally let the smile he had been holding back break through. He couldn't help it. The idea that Connor had taken to his new pet fast enough, to already give it a name, almost made his heart beat. "How long do kittens live?" Angel went back to shuffling papers. He was trying to look busy, even though he was dreadfully bored. Why else would he humor Spike's ranting for so long?  
  
"About a year and a half..." Angel's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "Then they become cats. Big evil cats with sharp claws and teeth." Spike put his hands up, pantomiming claws and he bared blunt teeth.  
  
Angel chuckled happily and sighed. "I'm not getting rid of Skittles. Connor likes him and since you seem to know so much about cats I want you to help take care of him."  
  
Spike's jaw dropped open, but he wasn't able to voice what he thought. It seemed that Angelus' conditioning had stuck around a little.  
  
Angel raised an eyebrow at his Childe expression. The boy had amazing restraint. "Go ahead and say it."  
  
"What?" Spike asked, feigning innocence.  
  
"You were going to call me a poof and tell me sod off and take care of my own bleedin' cat." Angel looked up at his outraged childe and grinned. "Is that right?"  
  
"That was the worst put on accent, I have ever heard. You ever do that again and I'll pop you in the jaw. I don't care if you hit me back or not." Spike nodded to emphasize his statement.  
  
"But was that what you were going to say?" Angel insisted.  
  
"No, I was going to call you a ponce, tell you to wank off, and then proceed in eating the bloody cat." Spike bit the insides of his cheeks in agitation and it almost made him look hollow.  
  
Angel took in the effect and grinned. "Have you ever thought about having your picture done?"  
  
Spike shook his head. "Why?" Suddenly, Spike wasn't so comfortable with the easy grins Angel was wearing lately. "What's going on in your head?"  
  
"I'm bored. Sit down." Angel pointed at the chair in front of his desk  
  
"I think I'll go find Cat and feed..."  
  
"Sit down." Angel put on his Sire voice and searched the desk drawers for pencils and paper.  
  
Spike took a chair and fidgeted nervously. "So, how long has it been since you drew someone?"  
  
"I have pictures of Connor, as a baby, Cordelia, asleep, Wesley, reading, Fred and Gunn, whispering to each other, Lorne, drinking a Tequila... Where is my charcoal?" Angel opened another drawer and pulled out a box. "Here we go." Spike started to get up from his seat and Angel pinned him with a glare. "Don't move, unless I say so."  
  
"So, you want me to pose?" Spike bit his bottom lip, self-consciously.  
  
Angel looked up and smiled. "Stay."  
  
Spike wanted to protest, but he knew better. He just sat there, slumped slightly, lip trapped in between blunt teeth, and eyebrows drawn together.  
  
Angel sat there sketching for minutes on end. He was suddenly very glad that vampires didn't have to breathe. Spike was being very still and he was happy with the results he was producing. Angel stopped sketching and nodded at Spike. "That's enough. I have a rough sketch done and I can finish it."  
  
Spike was curious, but he knew Angel wouldn't let him see the sketch until it was finished. "So, I can go?"  
  
Angel nodded and went back to work on the picture.  
  
"All right, then." Spike got up from his chair and headed out the door. Was Angel going crazy? The last time he had been drawn, he was William the Bloody and Angel was Angelus and Dru was sitting in the corner tied to a chair, laughing hysterically. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. After making his way through the lobby, he groaned. "Screw this, I need a cigarette." Spike grabbed his coat and head out the door, in search of a convenient store.  
  
TBC  
  
(Okay, I'm not quite sure what is going on in Joss World, but here I am going crazy. Two more weeks of Buffy and Angel's going to be on it next week? Ah! Not just that! If I have one more person volunteer me to do manual labor, I am going to pick up my cat and leave this town. Okay, I'm going to go outside and drown in the flood, now. Please don't forget to review.)  
  
-This chapter was subtitled 'Curiosity' because it is a good poem, by Alastair Reid, about... you guessed it, cats. Well, kind of. Anyway, I like cats, so sue me. No, don't! I'm poor. I really am.- 


	5. The Metamorphosis of Narcissus

I don't BTVS or Angel and I never will, but that's okay. I don't own Spike, Angel, Connor, Wesley, or Skittles, and that's not okay. If I did own them, I would throw them in a giant bag and have myself the most fun and inventive Trail Mix on the face of this planet or any other, for that matter. Anyway, I'm cooky, you're wonderful reviewers, and Joss is genius. Need I say more? On that note.  
  
On with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- The Metamorphosis of Narcissus ::  
  
"What's that smell?" Wesley asked, as he stuck his nose in the air and sniffed.  
  
"Cinnamon Binaca." Angel stated, casually. "Spike's trying to cover up the fact that he started smoking again. He lasted about..." Angel lifted his shirtsleeve and peeked at his watch. "seventeen hours. That's including the time that he slept." Angel shook his head and laughed. "As long as he keeps it outside, I don't really care. It's not like he's going to cause anymore air pollution, than there is already."  
  
Wesley shook his head. "No, it doesn't smell like cinnamon. It's more..."  
  
"Cat piss." Spike muttered as he walked in the room.  
  
Wesley cocked his head, slightly and nodded. "I wouldn't have put it that way."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes at Wesley's irreverent comment. "I'm not merely describing the smell, Wes. I'm pinpointing it. It's that cat the boy so lovingly refers to as Skittles." Spike was leaning on the doorframe watching Angel closely. Wesley could tell that something had set Spike off, but Angel seemed oblivious to it.  
  
"'The Cat Lovingly Referred to as Skittles', almost sounds like 'The Artist Formally Known as Prince'." Wesley laughed at the joke, as he said it, Angel shook his head in blissful ignorance, and Spike was too ruffled to joke about anything. Wesley realized now wasn't the time, so he turned to his books, with a sigh.  
  
"Anyway, Cat's trying to spray all over things, so I locked him in one room. He can stay there, til we get him clipped." Spike walked over to the counter, and jumped up there, so that he could settle down 'Indian-style', in front of Angel. "He keeps scratching me. It doesn't really hurt, as far as hurting goes, but he starts that now and he'll be evil before Connor reaches manhood."  
  
"Then, you should discipline him." Angel gave Spike a bright smile and leaned back in his chair. "How do you discipline a cat?"  
  
"Depends... Do you want the cat to live through it?" Spike grinned at the transformation from smiles to long-suffering, on Angel's face. "I could give it a whack with a newspaper, then. I don't think it will do much good, but I can be patient if I force myself."  
  
Angel doubted it. His Childe was known for many things, but patience wasn't one of them. "So what floor did you put Skittles on?"  
  
Spike smiled almost sheepishly. Should he tell? Of course, he should. "The first floor."  
  
"No wonder it smells so bad. You only took him up a flight?" Angel shook his head in dismay. Now, Spike was showing a deficiency in common sense. The smell could scare away potential customers. Not that there were any, as of late. "Well, which room did you put him in, so I don't accidentally let him out or anything."  
  
Spike hopped down from his perch on the desk and walked toward the kitchen. "He's in 109."  
  
Angel dropped his pencil on the ground and groaned. "That's Connor's room."  
  
"Sure is!" Spike yelled back, as he grabbed a beer out of the fridge. He popped the tab and laughed heartily. "It's his bleedin' cat. Let him take care of it." Spike walked back into the lobby, gulping greedily from his can, just to be hit in the middle of his forehead by a flying pencil. "Hey, you could put someone's eye out like that!" Spike choked, as he rubbed the sore spot on his head. He bent down to get the lost projectile, while casting his Sire the evil eye.  
  
"Don't whine. I would have put it back for you." Angel leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. "You're lucky Connor's not driving a pencil through your black little heart."  
  
"Oh, Angel! You hurt my soul." Spike feigned a gasp and grabbed at his chest, where his unbeating heart lay beneath the surface, with the hand that clutched Angel's pencil.  
  
Angel chuckled. He couldn't get over Spike's ability to make anything and everything into some sort of joke. Even when he was being a jerk, he was being an amusing jerk. "I'm glad you aren't worried about it."  
  
"Why should I be? The boy has nothing on me." Spike straightened his shoulders and grinned. "I may be all soul-having now, but I'm still the Big Bad. I got the blood of Aurelius flowing through my veins."  
  
"So does Connor." Wesley decided to pipe in, which made Spike's face fall, and Angel burst out laughing. Wesley grinned and continued. "Actually both of his parents had the blood of Aurelius. So he may be a little tougher to beat than you thought."  
  
"What, so the boy has super hearing?" Spike asked.  
  
"Yes." Wesley nodded.  
  
"Vision good too?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"He fast?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Spike snapped the pencil in his hand and dropped it to the ground. "What about his metabolism? Can he eat anything he wants and not get all flabby, like his dad here?"  
  
Angel looked up with a scowl, but that didn't deter Wesley. "Yes. His metabolism is quite fast. Not that Angel is... flabby." Wesley cast Angel a look and turned back to his book with a grin. Angel was pretty vain, for a guy without a reflection.  
  
Angel stood from his seat and walked around the counter, until he was facing Spike. "You may want to move Skittles to another room."  
  
"Or not." Spike narrowed his gaze at the taller man. "Connor has to take care of it. It's his cat and if he's not going to be responsible about it, you should give Skits away."  
  
"You're still upset about the stupid cat eating your candy. Can't you even drop a grudge against a cat?" Angel turned away in exasperation.  
  
"Hold a grudge?!" Spike stomped his foot and smiled spitefully, when he realized it cracked the tile beneath his feet. "Angelus, I dropped a one hundred and twenty year grudge... for *your* sake! You don't think I could get over a kitty eatin' some damn bite sized candies? You're an ass." Spike stomped away from his Sire and up the stairs. He wasn't sure where he was planning on going. He just knew that he had to get away from Angel, as soon as possible.  
  
Angel waited until Spike had made his way upstairs and had slammed a door, probably his own, behind him. He rubbed his face with both hands and turned toward Wesley. "Am I an ass?  
  
"Yes." Wesley flipped a page in his book and sighed. "But I'm not an impartial player in this game. Ask someone who likes you."  
  
"What's your problem? I haven't tried to kill you lately or anything." Angel huffed, as he walked in his office and slammed the door behind him.  
  
"What is it with vampires and slamming doors?" Wesley thought aloud. He shrugged and went back to his reading. Maybe they would get over whatever it was that was really upsetting them.  
  
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"Spike, open your door!" Connor screamed through the wood barricade.  
  
"Nope. Not til you settle down. Daddy dearest seems to think you'll stake me for whatever reason you've fabricated, this time." Spike answered his surly brother.  
  
"I won't kill you. I won't even hurt you." The "much" on the end of that sentence, was as good as said, the moment Connor opened his mouth again. "I'm not even that mad."  
  
"The 'that' makes all the difference, little bro. Go and take a cool shower or sumptin'." Spike faked a yawn. "It's almost mornin' and I'm beat."  
  
"Not yet, your not! OPEN THIS DOOR!" Connor beat against the door with his closed fists. It probably would have fell from the blows, if Spike hadn't been leaning against the other side.  
  
"Boys, what seems to be the problem?"  
  
Connor saw the concerned green face out of the corner of his eye and groaned, inwardly. "Spike made the cat spray my room."  
  
"And by spray, I don't suppose you mean bug repellent." Lorne scrunched up his nose, in distaste, when Connor shook his head. "Lovely. Spike, precious, would you open up the door if I promised that Connor would not hurt you?"  
  
"What you gonna' do? Sing 'im to death? No, I think I like me chances of survivin' better when I'm on this side of the door." Spike knew he sounded stupid. He was the Big Bad, trembling over a little boy? No, to tell the truth, he really didn't want to hurt Connor. Plus, what if Connor gave as good as he got and then Angel jumped in? Who would Angel save first? Connor. Well, duh, the kid is alive... as in non-dead. Spike would be laid out as flat as the pavement and Angelus would be the steamroller.  
  
Lorne sighed heavily. This was stupid. A vampire hiding from a kid? He knew there had to be more to it than that, but for all his psychic abilities, he could not guess what it was. "Connor, hum a few bars of 'Mary Had a Little Lamb', for me."  
  
"Hum what?" Connor pulled a face, making Lorne grunt in frustration.  
  
"Just hum a song or a bar of something musical sounding, maybe."  
  
Connor hummed something kind of musical and Lorne winced. "My voice isn't that horrible." Connor pouted.  
  
"No." Lorne agreed. "Certainly nothing like your dad's."  
  
"Damn straight!" Spike yelled from the other side of the door. "Angelus sounds like a goose swallowing a razor, while being plucked by a demon with razor sharp nails... except worse."  
  
Lorne laughed, when he realized the analogy was not that far off. "Actually," Lorne addressed Connor, "I kinda' saw you and Spike. Both big bloody messes, so I think it would be better if you did as Spike suggested. Maybe you should go and pick yourself out a new room. Let the cat run free in your present one. You can have words with Spike after he stops cowering."  
  
"I'm not cowering!" Spike exclaimed. He was insulted. A master vampire, like him, cowering? Yeah right. Cowering was not his way. He was a 'meet it head on' type of guy. Unless, of course, *it* was a testy teenager, with a dad that would assume snap Spike's neck than look at him, at the moment.  
  
"Yeah, doll. You say potato and I say po-tah-to, except I don't say po-tah- to, but you know what I mean. Hey, tiger, how about you move some of that growling and brooding down to your room?" Lorne shooed Connor down the hall and leaned against Spike's door. "The kid's gone. You coming out?"  
  
"If I do, will you give me a parade?" Spike muttered into the splintery surface of the door.  
  
"What was that?" Lorne asked, pressing his ear up to the opposite side.  
  
"Nevermind. Just stuff and nonsense." Spike opened the door and Lorne almost tumbled tail over horns, into the drafty room.  
  
"Umm-hmm..." Lorne dusted some imaginary dirt, off his bright yellow suit and grinned up at Spike. "You done hiding from the tike?"  
  
"I wasn't hiding, either. I was saving him from a bloody nose and me from embarrassment." Spike sulked over to his bed and sat down, with a huff.  
  
"Embarrassment?" Lorne was genuinely confused. "I thought you had the chip removed months ago."  
  
"I did, but this type of embarrassment would stem from a different type of muzzle. You know, the type with teeth." Spike waved his hand at Lorne, silently asking him to understand, asking him to leave, asking him to just not hurt his ego any more than necessary.  
  
"I get it." Lorne walked over and took a seat next to Spike. "Papa bear might jump in between Mama bear and Baby bear's spat and up[set the whole thing."  
  
"I do not like that analogy." Spike's forehead wrinkled up in thought. "I'd prefer to be Goldilocks, than 'Mama bear'." Spike pointed to his head and grinned. "Kinda' almost applies. Mama bear does not."  
  
"Potato, po-tah-to." Lorne got up from his seat and stretched languidly. "As long as you aren't shoving a cat into my room, we'll be okey-dokey. So, Spike, let me ask. Why did you do it? You knew Connor would react like that. You had to."  
  
Spike grinned devilishly. "Well, I didn't know he would take offense. I figured it was his cat, so he should take care of it and.."  
  
"You lie." Lorne stated it matter-of-factly, as he rested his head in his palm.  
  
"I was trying to rile Angel up. He's been kinda' moody lately, cause of somethin' I'm not sure I should tell you about and I just wanted to get him going." Spike shrugged. "He got me more riled than I got him, I'm afraid."  
  
Lorne flashed Spike a wide, white, knowing grin. "Yep, sound about right, Mama bear. I guess I should go down stairs, now. It's a work day and I probably should, at least, try to look busy."  
  
Spike nodded in agreement. "Shut the door on your way out." Lorne headed out the door and was just about to shut it when Spike added hastily. "You think you could do me a small favor?"  
  
Lorne turned toward the platinum vampire and couldn't help grinning at the goofy smile he received. "M'kay. What can I do for you, Sugar?"  
  
"How horrible would it be for you to listen to Angel sing, again?" Spike, literally, sat on the edge of his seat, waiting for Lorne's answer.  
  
Lorne shuddered at the thought. It would be pure torture. Not that he completely opposed to a little pain every now and then... He was a demon, after all. Pain was just another way to feel something, but this. This was completely and utterly masochistic. "Would you tell me why? What would I be looking for."  
  
"Have you ever tried mixing your abilities with the interpretation of dreams?" Spike grinned, lazily, as he and Lorne devised a sneaky and, admittedly, stupid plan to get Angel to spill his dream.  
  
TBC  
  
(I am so sorry this has taken so long to get out. I'm in the process of moving and I had to help organize a huge yard sale, this weekend and last. Plus, my grandmother was in town and she stole my room for three days. Hey! You try to type with my Mamaw hanging over *your* shoulder! I know those sound like excuses, but I'm stressin'! Please review and alleviate my stress! Yes, I am just low enough to play the pity card.)  
  
_The subtitled was called 'The Metamorphosis of Narcissus', because of this famous painting by Dali. It's so cool... He's so cool... You should really check out his work, if your not familiar.- 


	6. Go with the Flow

I don't own BTVS or Angel and I never will, although I would be willing to buy them if I had lots and lots of money. I don't own Spike, Angel, Connor, Lorne, Wesley, or Skittles, but I'm willing to write about them until my fingers bleed. By the way, you guys are the best! Oh, and although Joss, with his power of giving families to young men with familial complexes, is a genius and absolutely wonderful, I think I should take some credit on making Connor happy in this fic. I gave him a kitty. Ahem...  
  
Anyway, on with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- Go with the Flow::  
  
Angel jumped when he heard the loud thumping sounds coming from the ceiling, which caused him to spill a mug of blood on some old documentation he had stolen from Wesley. He wished that he had a broom handle, so he could cause some thumps of his own. Angel concentrated on sending some angry vibes in Spike's direction. He knew that the blood between them had thinned out in the last century, but he could still hope that Spike would feel some type of pin prickle of sensation, from his Sire. Of course, that was probably hoping too much.  
  
Angel tried soaking up the spilled blood with his shirtsleeve and winced when he heard the thumping upstairs grow louder. "Spike!" He knew that Spike probably wouldn't hear his call and even if he did, he would probably ignore it. It was the first time he had acknowledged his Childe's existence in the last two days. The thumping grew louder. "Stupid boy. *William*!" Angel swore, as he looked down at his sleeve. Another shirt ruined.  
  
"What?!" Angel looked up to find his Childe's frowning face hovering in the doorway. "You don't have to yell, *Angelus*!"  
  
The thumps continued and Angel was stumped. "If that's not you, then who is stomping around upstairs?"  
  
Spike grinned. "Oh. That's Skittles."  
  
"What? How could a little kitten make all that noise?" Angel got up from his seat and walked around his desk, to sit on the corner.  
  
"Well, I didn't say he was making the noise alone. Connor is chasing him around the room. It's kinda' cute... in an annoying, bad way." Spike walked up to his Sire, signature smirk sketching itself across his features. He grabbed the cuff of Angel's shirtsleeve between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing the material. "Make a mess, did ya'?"  
  
Angel looked down at the stain and smiled. "Yeah, I guess I did."  
  
"If you wanted to go shopping, you didn't have to bloody your shirt up. You could have just said, 'We're going shopping' and I woulda' jumped in that deathtrap you call a car and we woulda' been on our way." Spike dropped his hand and hugged himself. "It's kinda' cold tonight. That's strange, you know. Things like that usually don't register with me, since I'm dead and all."  
  
"We?" Angel asked.  
  
"We what? Oh, you mean about going shopping? Yeah. I mean someone has to make sure you don't dress up like a poof. The others haven't done such a good job on that front and I figured between me and Lorne, we could have you dress up like a right..."  
  
"Ponce?" Angel smirked at the startled look Spike gave him.  
  
"No. I'm trying to save you from looking like a ponce." Spike head back toward the door. "Why don't you get something else on. Something that doesn't scream 'I'm a serial killer' and I'll go get Lorne. We can go buy you some more shirts and I can get some cig... a new pair of pants."  
  
Angel gave Spike a knowing smile. "What's wrong with the pants you have on?"  
  
Spike grinned back. His Sire wasn't a fool. "I'm wearing a hole in the arse. It's becoming threadbare and I don't favor showing the lot of you, the backside of this beautiful work of art, which is me."  
  
Angel couldn't help chuckling. "You still don't wear underclothes, do you?"  
  
"Curiosity dusted the vamp." Spike quirked a brow. "Hurry up and change your shirt."  
  
Angel watched Spike leave the room and smirked. Spike, taking *him* shopping? Now, that was an interesting idea. Hadn't Spike pointed out how he had hated getting dressed up by Angel, when he was a fledgling? Was this some sort of revenge? One could only hope, Angel thought with a laugh.  
  
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"I'm not wearing that." Angel threw the bright blue sweater back at the source of his annoyance.  
  
Lorne caught the shirt, as it was flung in his face. "Angel, why do you keep rejecting everything I show to you? I was almost positive you would like this one." Lorne folded the shirt and placed it back on the shelf. "You're too picky."  
  
"Thank the gods for that. Last thing we need is for Angel to go jumpin' the next little blonde thing that walks by." Spike was muttering, as he pulled a dark red, silk shirt off of a hanger and tossed it to Angel. "I know you like that one. I'll let you get it if you humor Lorne on the blue sweater."  
  
Angel grinned, as he looked at the shirt. Then, he looked at the tag and winced. "I don't wear an extra large, Spike. Give me a large." He handed the shirt back to Spike, who was now grinning like a fool.  
  
"Hey, what can I say? You look like you've put on a few pounds. If twenty pounds can be called a few." Spike shrugged and draped the shirt over the rail he had gotten it off of. He picked up a large and handed to his Sire. "I suggest you try it on."  
  
"I know what size I wear, Spike, and I haven't put on weight." Angel put the shirt up against his torso and almost cringed. It would be an act of God if he could actually fit it over his chest. He looked up to find Spike grinning at him.  
  
"You're fat." Spike erupted in laughter, when Angel's forehead drew together and his bottom lip stuck out. "You're also a pouter... and a poofter. Don't forget that you're a poofter."  
  
"Said the Billy Idol wanna-be. By the way, Spike..." Angel cast a glance at his childe's new pants, he was wearing. They were the same black jeans he was accustomed to, except more form fitting. "Do you think those jeans are tight enough. I can't tell that you run around commando. You know, except that I can."  
  
Spike chuckled. Like him and Dru didn't run around naked in the moonlight, way back when him and Angel were soulless. Like Darla and Angelus didn't laugh their asses off and make bets on who was the bigger exhibitionist. Like Angel really wanted to visit those memories. Like he really cared what his Sire wanted. "I'll buy some undies if it bothers you so much. I like these pants. They show off my tight lil'..."  
  
"So..." Lorne interrupted. "Here's a nice brown button up."  
  
Spike looked over and grabbed the piece of cloth. "Oh, this is mine. Good it's a medium. I'm tiny and cute, unlike some other broody vampires I know." Spike slipped the shirt on, over his black tee shirt and buttoned it up. It fit snugly, but in a good way. "I like. Angel, did you bring your credit cards?"  
  
Angel rolled his eyes and headed toward the dressing room. "I never pegged you for a Spartan. Dressing out in the open."  
  
"I could be undressing out in the open. Give the kiddies a nice show and all." Spike unbuttoned the shirt and shrugged it off of his shoulders. He motioned for Lorne to follow him and they both made there way after Angel.  
  
"Isn't it enough that we have Lorne here? Do you really feel the need to make a bigger commotion?" Angel walked into the room and closed the door behind him.  
  
"I probably should feel insulted." Lorne shrugged. "But I found this candy apple red sports jacket over there earlier and my mind keeps on slipping back to it. You don't think anyone will buy it first do you?"  
  
"My guess would be... no." Spike smiled sweetly and turned toward the dressing room, Angel occupied.  
  
Angel looked around the small space and sniffed. Who ever thought that a grown man could change in a three-by-three dressing room should have their intestines wrapped around their necks, Angel thought idly, as he peeled off his black button up and knocked his elbow into the wall.  
  
"Be careful, Sire. Don't want you ripping holes in the fabrics. If you feel that it won't fit over those massive shoulders of yours, then don't force it. Just throw it back out here and I'll get you a bigger size." Spike leaned against the dressing room door and grinned at the cursing he heard on the other side.  
  
"My shoulders aren't *that* massive."  
  
Spike could actually here the pout in Angel's voice. "You know what? I think it must run in the family. You and Connor are a lot alike. Not *that* much alike, I'm sure." Spike mocked.  
  
Angel answered by tossing the shirt he unsuccessfully tried on, over the door. "Get me the extra large." He growled. He hated when Spike was right.  
  
Spike handed Lorne the shirt, which had landed on his head, and motioned him to go. "So, Angel, while I have you trapped, what have you been dreaming about?" Spike heard a warning growl from the other side of the door, but decided to ignore it. "Don't push on the door, I'll only push back. Oh, and don't try to bust through it either, Angelus. These little pieces of wood here, at my back, can make pretty good stakes if there broken right."  
  
"Spike, move away from the door." Angel tried to keep his tone neutral, but failed miserably.  
  
"That would be a big uh-uh, Love." Spike leaned his weight into the door and sighed. "How can I protect myself if I don't know what's after me?"  
  
"I'll protect you." Angel murmured.  
  
"That's sweet, Angel, but ridiculous. You aren't with me all the time. Even though I'm staying home a lot more, you can't always be with me." Spike took an unneeded breath and let it out. "Think logically, pet. I'll probably drive you crazy and then you'll want to *give* me to this big nasty, you're so afraid of."  
  
"No." Angel hit the door, just hard enough to make Spike jump forward and stumble over his own feet. He took the chance to open it, before Spike could regain his footing. He stood over his Childe, shirtless, glaring down at him. "That was stupid."  
  
"But it is necessary." Spike looked over his shoulder, at the vampire looming over him. "You must tell me what I'm up against. Are you in trouble too? Is Connor or Wes? Gunn, Cordy, Fred, Lorne?"  
  
"You rang?" Lorne walked up to the two arguing vamps and took in the situation. Shirtless, angry Sire standing over angry, snarling Childe. "Maybe now is not a good time." Lorne turned around and followed his feet to Men's apparel. "Got to love vampires. They're never boring."  
  
Angel offered Spike a hand and pulled him to his feet. "I'll take care of it."  
  
"Does the *it* have a name or a gender?" Spike continued to try and bleed information, out of his Sire. Not in the literal sense, of course. That was plan C.  
  
"Yes." Angel pointed at the shirt he left crumpled in the dressing room. "Is it okay if I go and get that, or are you going to do something stupid again?"  
  
"Good thing about me, Angel. I never do the same stupid thing twice." Spike grinned at the look his Sire gave him. "In a row. I never do the same stupid thing twice in a row." Spike nodded along with his statement.  
  
Angel walked into the room and slipped his shirt on. He was almost too tired to button it. The whole situation with Spike had drained him. Not in the literal sense, of course. Spike was too smart for that.  
  
"Angel, if you are really worried about it, then you should tell me, you know?" Spike tried again, but he knew that he wasn't getting anywhere.  
  
"I know. It's not the right time or the right place, though." Angel was rumpled and more than a little tired. His hair was messy, his shirt was wrinkled, and all he wanted to do was go home and play with Skittles.  
  
If playing Angel was like playing a baseball game, Spike knew he would be striking out. "You wanna' go? We can go buy your shirts, you already have picked, get Lorne, and head back home."  
  
"Yeah, let's get going. I'm starting to feel old." Angel glared at Spike, successfully shushing the predictable quip that tried to escape his mouth. "Don't say anything."  
  
Spike grinned. "About what? You being old?"  
  
Angel held back a chuckle and headed toward the Men's clothes, where he spotted a pair of red horns. "Shut up. I'm not that much older than you, boy."  
  
"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, old man." Spike rushed over to where Lorne who stood smiling at the coat he was wearing. "Nice coat."  
  
"Yeah and practically a steal. I wonder how they could price it so low and nobody has bought it yet." Lorne played with the lapels of the coat and smiled wider.  
  
"I wonder." Angel muttered. "You ready to go?"  
  
"Yeah, let's buy this stuff and head out." Spike pulled at the coat Lorne was wearing and grabbed up the other items. "Come with me Lorne. We'll buy this stuff so Angel doesn't have to converse with the dreaded checkout people. Angel, you drive the car around so Lorne and me don't have to walk so far."  
  
Angel tossed his wallet at Spike and headed outside, without a grumble. He really didn't want to talk to the people behind the counter, up front. They always wanted to ask how his day was going and they really didn't want to know the answer. And they always looked so happy, even when you could smell all the other emotions right there on there skin. Those hypocritical smiley faces, taking his credit cards and making his life hell. He sighed at his train of thought. He really needed some undisturbed sleep.  
  
Spike gathered the clothes closer to his body and walked up to the front, placing them on the counter in front of the shiny faced teenager, working the register. "My day sucked, don't ask me." The boy nodded and started ringing up the items. Spike turned toward Lorne and stomped his foot, in frustration. "It didn't work. Plan A was a bust and we're going to have to skip to Plan B." Spike smirked. "It looks like it's up to you, now. Do you think we should get Wesley in on it?"  
  
"He'd probably get a kick out of it." Lorne shrugged.  
  
"Either that or have an aneurysm. I know the poof's voice isn't exactly sweet to listen to. The guy was always looking for new ways to torture the lot of us. You think he didn't sink low enough, as to tie me up and sing. Dru loved it. She was crazy." Spike grinned. "I feel bad for you, though."  
  
Lorne just shrugged. He knew it sounded stupid, but just thinking about this plan of Spike's made him want a drink, horribly.  
  
Spike handed the boy behind the counter a credit card and signed the receipt.  
  
The kid looked at it and frowned. "Angel? You don't have a last name?"  
  
Spike shrugged and picked up his bags. "What can I say? I'm a child of the 80's." Spike nodded toward the door and winked at Lorne. "Come on. Let's go mess with my Sire."  
  
TBC  
  
Okay, guys. I know you wanna' know the dream. I'm not promising you'll know it next installment, but it's getting close. Thanks for being faithful to the story. I love you guys so much!  
  
-The sub-title in this chapter is called, 'Go with the Flow' because I love the Queens of the Stone Age and it's a good song. Plus, it just felt like the right name for this installment. *shrug*- 


	7. Where Angels Fear to Tread

Warning: There will be a little bit of jumping around in this chapter, because I want to see if I can drive you guys crazy enough to review your butts off.  
  
Ahem... I don't own Angel or BTVS, but if you hear that they are for sale on EBAY, tell me and I'll make a bid. I don't own Angel, Spike... or any other character in this fic. (forgive me, but the list can get quite long) but with a little help and a few really good lawyers I think I could find a way to make them mine. I'm stubborn and I'm a scrapper, thank you. Oh, Joss is a genius, I am a loony bird, and you still read my story! I love you for it! Anyway, without further ado...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- Where Angels Fear to Tread::  
  
The ride home had been torture. Lorne was obviously in league with the devil, a.k.a. Spike, and Angel was close to losing it. He could handle Spike. He had spent years learning how to handle Spike, but when Spike recruited someone to help him, he went for the best. Angel slumped down into his bed and sighed. He wasn't sure whether it was a sigh of relief or a sigh of exhaustion. The worst things was, he knew that there was almost absolutely no chance of him getting sleep tonight  
  
Angel didn't bother to take off his shoes, as he settled his face into his pillow and snuggled into the comforter. "Stupid, stupid boy." Angel almost said it affectionately. Spike was certainly dedicated to whatever stupid plans he had. Angel could only think that the episode at the store had been plan number one. He would hate to see what plan two was, and then again he couldn't wait.  
  
Spike's stupid plans and asinine ideas were what kept him young, as of late. As he watched Connor age day by day, he felt older, but Spike never changed. Well, he did, but not age-wise. Angel felt himself drifting off and he allowed sleep to overtake him. He had a restful sleep, for a while, and then the voice started to creep into his mind.  
  
"Angelus..." Just a breath. "Sire?" A whisper of a memory. "I can't sleep."  
  
Angel knew he should probably ignore his dreams. Maybe they would leave him alone. He couldn't, though. They were too real and he knew that he would be swept away. "What is it, William?" He murmured into his pillow.  
  
"Sire?" Angel glanced over and found a pair of startling blue eyes, staring back at him.  
  
Angel turned back over, with a groan. "Go ta' sleep, William. You and your brother should not haunt me dreams, boyo. They don't end, at all, good." Angel found that in his dreams, the demons that haunted him responded better to Angelus. He would give them a voice, but nothing more.  
  
"Brother?" William asked, in a whisper. "Why would he be here?"  
  
"Go ta' bed." Angel tried to be stern. "Leave me be, acushla." He tried again, when he felt the bed dip. "I need quite." He whispered harshly.  
  
He heard William sigh and he smelled the sadness there. "Sire? I'm restless because you are. Could you sing to me? A lullaby, like the one you sang to Dru when she was feeling down?"  
  
Angel sighed. Humor your demons and you get hurt, but how could he say no? "Troo ra loo ra loo ra." Angel groaned. His voice wasn't any better in his dreams. The plight of the tone deaf. "I'm no good at comfort, my boy."  
  
"It's all right, Sire." Angel heard the smile in William's voice. "You try. That's all that I ask." Angel could feel William's hand smooth over the back of his hair and come down to pet his neck. "Sleep, Sire. Dream the dreams where angels tread."  
  
Angel sighed, audibly. William. *His* William. He gave his mind a mental shake. It was all fantasy. His imagination. Why would it be real? A soul hadn't made William. Twenty-three years of living in London, taking care of an invalid mother, and writing poetry, was what made William. Poetry... Where Angel's tread? Wasn't the term, where angels fear to tread?  
  
"Yes. I believe you're right about that, Angelus." So the nightmare began.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Lorne was sitting in a chair, sipping some Bourbon. What had he agreed to? He was going to get himself in the middle of a feud and he wasn't sure how to get out. Angel was going to figure things out and he was going to get his head taken off... not that it was really that big of a deal, but still it wasn't exactly a delightful situation. Lorne slumped down in his seat and sighed. How had he gotten pulled into this?  
  
Oh, yeah. Spike. Spike was very persuasive. He had to give him that much. And stubborn. Yes, the guy was definitely stubborn. And screwed. Yup, he was a dead man... Umm... pile of dust. Lorne found the pictures in his head upsetting, but the worst part of it was the emotions that were accompanying them. He didn't exactly know what these pictures meant and that was also very disturbing. Apparently Angel's dreams were clips and phrases from the past, present, and future meshed together. Only Angel could truly interpret them and he had become denial guy, lately.  
  
"So?" Spike walked into the room and dived onto Lorne's bed, face first. He rumpled up the comforter, until it surrounded him like a nest and then opted to turn over, so he could see Lorne's face. "What? I'll fix it before I go. Not like you aren't going to sleep in a minute, anyway. So, what about it?"  
  
Lorne shrugged and went back to sipping his drink. Spike was a child. An immature, one-hundred-and-thirty some odd year old child. A happy, smart, funny, witty, child who was going to die. Lorne wanted to yell at him, but he knew that wouldn't help the situation. "Spike, you want a drink? I have Scotch."  
  
Spike shook his head slowly. Something was wrong. Lorne was stalling for some reason. It must be bad, he thought, with a sigh. "Just tell me."  
  
"He doesn't think that he can save you. He thinks that you are going to be dust and he is going to be at fault." Lorne downed the rest of his drink and winced.  
  
Spike nodded. "And? He always thinks I'm going to be dust and he's going to be at fault. He's got that whole guilt thing going on. He thinks Connor and kitten are going to die before either one of 'em reach next week, Cordelia and Fred are going to be raped and murdered, Wes and Gunn will die fighting, and you are gonna' have your heart ripped outta' your arse. No, this is something different. Is it focused on me, directly?"  
  
"Yes and no." Lorne leaned forward in his chair.  
  
"Don't be cryptic. I gotta' know what this is. If not for my safety, for curiosities sake. " Spike laid back on the bed. "Am I gonna' be kidnapped? Tortured? Staked?" Spike sat back up. "Not another slayer, right? I'm through with them."  
  
Lorne smiled. "No. No slayers. I'm not getting a feminine vibe off of this one."  
  
"You wouldn't." Spike stated, dryly.  
  
"No. It's male, whatever it is. Look, Spike, if I were you I would pretend like I knew nothing and wait for Angel to tell you what's going on. The images in my head are sketchy, at best."  
  
Spike shook his head. "Angel gave me his answer. He doesn't want me to know what's going on and if he gets his way I won't. He's stubborn. "  
  
"Almost as stubborn as you?" Lorne asked, with a grin.  
  
"Almost." Spike agreed. "So tell me what you know."  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Skittles!" Connor walked the halls of the Hyperion searching for his kitten. The little rascal had succeeded in tearing a pretty nice hole in Spike's coat and Connor wanted to make sure he found Skittles before Spike did.  
  
He wasn't scared for his cat's physical health, by any means, but Spike had trapped Skittles under a whicker chair, a garbage can, and a clothes hamper, all in the last two days. The cat could lose its mind, if Spike wasn't careful. Connor figured Skittles being trapped like that, was like him being trapped in his room. Grounded? Was that what it was called? Kids on TV were grounded all the time. He killed demons. Normal teenage life, as far as he was concerned, but, of course, he didn't know any normal teenagers.  
  
"Skittles!" Connor smiled, when he thought back to his dad trying to play with the little puffball.  
  
"Arrogant cat." Angel stated, wryness evident in his voice. He had called it and called it and it still just batted at the curtains. Cats didn't answer, when called. One downfall in their personalities and suddenly they were arrogant.  
  
"He's not arrogant." Connor defended Skittles, as he picked him up and cradled it against his chest. "He just knows who he wants to acknowledge and who he doesn't."  
  
"In other words, he's arrogant." Angel smiled and settled back into his seat.  
  
Connor thought a moment and laughed. "If that's arrogant, then yes he is. But I don't care, because he's mine and I love him."  
  
"Yeah." Angel nodded, leaning his head back against the chair. "I know the feeling."  
  
"I'm not arrogant." Connor was frowning and the kitten felt the tinge of apprehension there. It swatted at his hair and grabbed a lock, in its paws. Connor tickled its feet, causing the kitten to lash out, but to no avail. It was trapped.  
  
"No, you're not." Angel agreed with his son. Connor was untrusting and possibly a little shy (Around humans), but certainly not arrogant. Well, not from a father's view point. "I wasn't talking about you."  
  
"Oh, you meant Spike." Connor laughed, when the kitten hissed at him. "You little monster. How am I ever supposed to train you, when you are just so cute." Connor pulled a face and shot a glance at his dad. "Please, don't tell me you think Spike is cute."  
  
"I won't." Angel grinned at his son's show of 'being grossed out', as Cordelia would put it. Some things were inherent. Kids would be kids, or something like that.  
  
"I don't think Spike would like to hear you say that." Skittles wanted to get down. It twisted and turned and finally it just stretched its front paws out, until it resembled a little furry Superman. Connor ignored it. "He would probably be offended if he thought anyone, especially you, thought anything he did was cute. Can I tell him you said it?"  
  
"But I didn't." Angel smirked at the pout Connor put on. For some reason he felt like his son was wearing it for the cat.  
  
"We can't have any fun, can we?" Connor said, while snuggling the furry face of his pet.  
  
Connor gave himself a mental shake. He was pretty sure he had changed his mind about the disciplining of Skittles, by this point. When he found him, he was going to whip his hide. "Skittles!" Connor heard a strangled meow coming from a door to his left. "Skittles?" He opened the door, letting the hall light flood the bedroom. "Here kitty."  
  
The meow that answered was quiet, almost muted. Connor flipped on the light switch and glanced around the room. A small trail of blood led from the doorway beneath the bed. Connor prepared himself for the worst, as he stalked to the bed and bent down. "Skittles?" He lifted the dust ruffle and sighed. Skittles held a rat, almost as big as himself, clenched in his teeth. Connor reached under the bed and pulled the vicious hunter out by the scruff of the neck. "Don't scare me like tha... Oh!"  
  
Connor pulled the rat out of Skittles' mouth and examined it. It was headless. "That would explain the blood, but what explains the head missing." He turned the rat over and found a neatly carved cross on its underbelly. "This just gets weirder." Connor looked at the kitten. "I should take this to Angel."  
  
Connor clenched the rat in his fist and held Skittles up to his face. "Are you okay?" Connor knew it was impossible, but he could have sworn that the kitten nodded. He sniffed his pet, inspecting it for poisoning or rabies. "Still smell like kitten." He said with a smile. "At least, I don't have to kill anyone." Connor tucked Skittles inside of his shirt and walked out into the hallway. Who would be crazy enough to do something like this, he wondered, as he walked toward his dad's bedroom.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Wesley had fallen asleep over his books, again. For some reason he had been put into some type of studying frenzy, in the last few days. He couldn't eat without finally returning back to his books, sandwich in hand. He couldn't sleep without dreaming of the creatures in the text. He couldn't talk without discussing incantations and the mating habits of Granarl demons. He felt like he was studying to become a Watcher, all over again... Without the shadow of his parents looming over him, of course. That wasn't all, though.  
  
Wesley felt like he was looking for something specific. Something wanted him to find it in these books. If he could only find out what it was. Maybe, he could get some rest.  
  
"What in the bloody hell!" Wesley heard the scream from upstairs, jarring him from sleep.  
  
"Spike?" He wondered out loud. He closed his book and headed up the stairs, to see what was the matter. He listened for Spike and heard his irritated cat's whine, coming from Lorne's room, on the first floor. He opened the door and found Spike standing over Lorne, who was drowning himself in a drink.  
  
"But the gaffer told me he was gone." Spike's fists clenched at his sides. "He didn't just say he was gone. He said that there was abso-bloody-lutely no way to bring him back." Spike started to pace up and down the room, shoulders tensed. He didn't even seem to notice Wesley hovering in the doorway, which was quite odd, seeing as how he had all of those lovely preternatural senses.  
  
Wesley stepped into the room and stroked his unshaven chin. He didn't really want to address Spike when he was in such a bad mood. "Lorne?"  
  
"Yeah, I see you hoverin' sweet pea. Come on in. I may need all the help I can get here. Spike's talking a lot, and I mean a lot, of slang here and I'm not sure what it means. Have you heard the term 'mouth and trousers' before?"  
  
"It means someone is full of hot air." Wesley interpreted.  
  
"Oh, well that makes things a little less shady." Lorne said with a smirk. "Okay, what does wonky and whinging pom mean to you?"  
  
"Wonky means unreliable and a... whinging pom. Dear, God. A sort of... Literally speaking it's a bitching Englishman." Wesley narrowed his gaze. "What is going on?"  
  
Spike looked up at his friend and smiled, grimly. "Angel thinks we're all going to die."  
  
Wesley shook his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"  
  
"That Angel is a git. He thinks that a stupid dream is gonna' kill us all. I mean, yeah his dreams have meaning and symbolism, but just cause he sees me and me brother playing like we are going to slaughter each other, doesn't mean that's going to happen. It could be a dream from the past. Like we haven't gone at each other before!"  
  
"But Spike... You and Connor have always seem to have gotten along."  
  
Spike laughed, harshly, at the confusion in Wesley's voice. "You silly ponce." He muttered it warmly. Not that brother. We're talking about Penn."  
  
TBC  
  
(Now, I figure I should point out that maybe this is just a little too clean cut. Maybe Spike just jumped to the wrong conclusion over Lorne's clipped visions. Or maybe I just wanna' throw Penn in here, even if he is (shall I say it?) dust in the wind. Okay, now if you don't like Penn... I do. Doesn't mean I'm gonna put him in the story and it doesn't mean that if I do put him in, that I won't kill him if I hafta'. So, yeah, I like him. A LOT! Okay, now, please review. And forgive the ramblings. I'm very tired, but I felt like I need to get this chapter out.)  
  
-The sub-title is 'Where Angels fear to tread', which is a story by EM Forester. The story has nothing to do with this story, but the name felt right. I won't recommend this book, because everybody feels differently about it and I would have to know you personally before I threw it at you. If you like EM Forester, you'll probably like it, though.-  
  
--Another thing I thought you might wanna' know- acushla (which Angel muttered in his sleep) is an Irish endearment, which means 'O pulse of my heart' or darling.-- 


	8. Dust in the Wind

I don't own Angel or BTVS. I don't own any of these guys. (And yes, I know that the only girl in my story was an insignificant character. Even the cat is male. *sigh* What can I say? I've never been pulled onto the Girl Power bandwagon. Plus, guys are fun to write.) Anyway, if Joss were Mega Ultra Man, I would be Itty Bitty Gal, his goofy fan girl. I know that name sucks, but what can I do about it? I've been looking at DC comics and the costumes have wowed me so much that the idiotic names don't matter anymore. Hmm... Anyway, I apologize to any of you, who do not like the way this story is going. There were a million and one directions I could have taken this story in and I picked one out of a hat. You are looking at direction 578, thank you so much. So...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- Dust in the Wind::  
  
So the nightmare began.  
  
Darkness was creeping along the walls. The door was closing slowly, making the light in the room shrink away, back to its home in the hallway. It didn't really matter; Angel's eyesight was just as good in the dark as it was in the light. He looked around the room, hoping that he would be alone. Finally, alone. He had no such luck.  
  
'Angelus? You are still in bed. Shouldn't you be out fighting crime?' The voice. That beautiful, horrible voice.  
  
Why was there a voice? He hadn't talked to him before. 'What are you doing here?' Angel threw his legs over the bed and searches the darkness for the face of his tormentor.  
  
'Maybe I'm getting back at my father.' The hurt was evident; the scorn was scalding. 'I've been doing it for two hundred years. Why stop now?' All of their bloodline carried the same pout.  
  
Angel shook his head. So his words had come back to haunt him, again. 'I should have never said that.'  
  
'Don't apologize now, Sire. I don't want your apologies.' It was a hiss. Not exactly a Viper's call, but a hiss all the same. 'What are you thinking?'  
  
The voice drew nearer and Angel could make out the figure of his childe. 'I'm not sure what to think.'  
  
'Would you like to look at me. You know who I am, but you have yet to see my face.' Angel grabbed his cheek, when he felt a puff of cool air hit his face. 'You've felt my presence, figuratively and now, literally speaking, as well.' Angel waited, as his childe stalked behind him and slipped his arms around his waist. A low rumbling purr came from the chest, pressed against his back. 'I hated dying.' The hug became an uncomfortable vice- like grip. 'You want to know why?'  
  
Angel didn't know what to do. Everything in him said to fight. His demon, his soul said to protect himself, but the small part of him that was human said no. He didn't want to make Penn think he felt any ill will toward him. This dream was different than the rest, if this was a dream. Angel truly wasn't sure. It definitely felt real, but so had all the others. 'Why, my boy?' Angel felt Penn's face press against the back of his shoulder and nuzzle.  
  
'It made me miss you. I didn't want to miss you.' Penn let his grip loosen and finally, let his hands fall to his sides. In a short moment, he was across the room and flipping the light switch. 'You betrayed us all.' Penn smiled sweetly at his Sire. He swayed over to the mussed up bed and sat on the corner. 'Why?'  
  
Penn was asking questions? He really wanted to know what had happened, what had made the change?  
  
'I caught you off guard? Good. That seems to be something I couldn't have done before I died. Maybe death was all that could remedy it. You never thought that I would actually turn to dust. Did you, Angelus? You thought that I would outlive the great Methuselah. I would grow old, get bat ears, and live forever as a master vampire, like you. Except... It's all changed.' Penn looked down at his lap, solemnly. 'You don't plan to grow old, anymore.' Penn looked back up to his Sire and grinned. 'You don't have to explain the gypsies to me. I know.'  
  
Angel fought the urge to cringe at Penn's tone of voice. He had done something horrible and he wanted Angel to guess. It was an old game from the past that Angelus had found amusing. Angel did not. Penn, on the other hand, was bouncing up and down on the edge of Angel's bed, like a happy child waiting for his bedtime story. Angel wondered if death had taken the rest of Penn's sanity away from him.  
  
'Naughty Sire. Brooding over a childe long lost. Can you not read my mind, any longer? Is the blood so faint between us?' Penn stood up and closed the space between him and Angel. 'Would you like to refresh it?' Penn turned his head to the side, displaying the creamy, white column of flesh.  
  
Angel took a step backwards. Penn was offering his blood? A sign of submission was for the tormented, not the tormentor. Penn was playing another game. He had to be.  
  
'No, then?' Penn stuck out his bottom lip and shrugged, nonchalantly. 'If William offered, you wouldn't reject him.' It wasn't a question; it was a statement. 'Would you reject Darla, knowing the last thing she did was sacrifice herself for your child?' Angel was taken back. Penn knew about... 'Yes, I know about Connor. I know about your horribly tormented soul and about how William the Bloody, my dear brother, has been welcomed back into the fold of your loving care. I also know something you don't know. You don't want to guess, do you?"  
  
Angel shook his head. Of course he didn't want to guess. Why prolong the aching in his gut? Could the dead get stomach ulcers? No, probably not.  
  
'Dru is dead, again. First, by you. Now, by me. Don't worry, Angelus. I don't want to punish you. I want to be you.' Penn was being wistful and Angel couldn't stand it any more. He picked Penn up off of his feet and hurled him at the headboard of his bed. Penn's body lay limp, on the mattress. 'You do know this is a dream, right?' Penn turned his head and smiled at his Sire. 'You can't hurt me.'  
  
'That's where you are wrong, boyo. I can hurt you just a readily, as you can hurt me. What? A bit of an Irish lilt and you become weak in the knees? What type o' woman are you then, Penn? A Puritan tramp is what you are. It's all you ever were. A houseboy, until I could find someone to take good enough care of Dru, so's I could leave with me own Sire. You are a dirty, filthy, little scamp of a thing. That's all you were ever meant to be. Your earthly father knew it, just as I know it now.'  
  
Penn's face grew dark, as Angel went on. He was hearing all of his thoughts and fears, played back to him in the form of his Sire. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to care, anymore. Before he knew what was happening, he had jumped back up to his feet. 'And what are you? A giant bully of a man. That's all you ever were, wasn't it? The bumbling drunk, chaser of skirts, man's man? Not much changes when you lose your soul. Eh, Angelus? You still liked your alcohol Irish, your women pliable, and your men half-crazed. As a matter of fact, you liked your women half- crazed, too. So, did gaining a soul make you all that different? Do you still like Irish liquor, flexible young women, and young men who push all of the right buttons?" Penn was standing face to face with his Sire. If his heart could beat, he knew it would be racing. 'Am I pushing the right buttons?'  
  
Angel backhanded Penn, knocking his head to the side. Blood trickled down his childe's face, from the upturned corner of his mouth. 'Yes.' Penn's face turned, facing Angel head on. 'You want to be me?' Angel mentally kicked himself. He was *not* going to feel any small amount of pride over this.  
  
Penn shrugged. 'I don't want a soul. As a matter of fact, I don't want a son. I do want what you have, however. I want my family back. It is said that you can torture a demon out of a man. Can you torture a soul out of a demon?'  
  
'I'm too strong for you.' Angel smirked, menacingly at his childe. 'You won't get the chance to find out.'  
  
'Oh, tsk tsk, Sire. You are so vain. Like I would really torture you. I am a bigger fan of The Lore, than that. You don't torture your Sire, unless they order you to.' Penn said with a smile. 'It's intrinsic. You trained me well, Angelus.' Penn gave a mock sigh and sat back down on the bed corner. 'It has been rumored, though, that another vampire other than you carries a soul. Now, how is that for luck? Of course, I don't believe in luck. That was also inbred, into me. I have to do this, you know. All of it. Dru, Spike... All of it.' Penn stared off into a dark corner, a minute and then shook his head, as if shaking off a bad thought.  
  
'Why, Penn?' Angel didn't really want to know why, but Penn would stick around, until he asked all the right questions.  
  
'I love you.' Penn said it with so much sincerity, that Angel almost felt compelled to believe him. Of course, that was crazy. ' I can see your thoughts written across your face, as if you had it written there in bold print. What's wrong, Sire? You can't take a little sibling rivalry? I never said I would hurt *the boy*. I'm only interested in William. We have some things to settle.'  
  
'That's not what I meant.' Angel stood over his childe and reached down to pet his head. It seemed almost loving, until he grabbed a handful of short- cropped hair and hauled him to his feet. He stared into his childe's eyes, searchingly. 'Since your being so cryptic I'll ask one question at a time. Dru?'  
  
'Does that even count as a question? A mono-syllabic word doesn't even begin to explain...' The grip tightened and Penn winced. '...the direction that your thought process is taking.'  
  
'Penn, I thought I couldn't hurt you. Your cringing.' Angel yanked Penn's head back and laughed at the gasp he received.  
  
'I never thought you would try.' Penn didn't even try lying to his Sire. He knew that Angel would see right through it. 'Umm... I guess you want me to tell you about Dru. Okay, I found Dru in Costa Rica. She was living in a cave under a waterfall. It was made up like a palace. Apparently, she had a small following, taking care of her needs. The following would be vampires, of course. They called her... Mother. She always wanted children.' Angel let his hold, of Penn, go and he took a halting step backward. 'I killed them, of course. I like to pride myself on the look that Dru had on her face, when she realized they were all dust. She whimpered about daddy not loving her, setting her on fire, taking grand-mum away, and her darling boy, being taken over by a Slayer. I walked in and held her, until she stopped shivering. She looked up at me and squealed her delight. I stayed until I drained her of all she had to offer.' Penn smiled in remembrance. 'Then, I left her for the sun.'  
  
'And you really think she's dead. You are a stupid childe. She's strong and crafty. Being crazy has nothing to do with a creature's will for survival.' Angel shook his head, a look of condescension written across his face.  
  
'She's dead. I tried visiting her in her dreams. The air was blank.'  
  
'Maybe she's too weak to dream or maybe she doesn't sleep with her eyes closed. It's hard for your head to paint pictures, without a canvas to paint them on.'  
  
Angel was being so calm, that it started to worry Penn. What if Angel was right? Wasn't Angel always right? No. It wasn't right for Angel to allow a human to kill one of his children. Then, for him to not take any sort of revenge? That was adding insult to injury, by far. 'Don't you even want to know how I'm back?'  
  
'Not particularly.' Angel smiled sweetly.  
  
Okay, now that hurt. 'Maybe William would be interested. If he ever slept, I could ask him. He spends his nights keeping an eye on you. Well, wait a minute. I don't have to wait for him to sleep. Do I?' Penn stretched his arms. 'I'm starting to feel pretty strong. How do I look?' Penn stood up and turned a complete circle.  
  
Angel almost couldn't help the urge to affirm his childe's opinion. Penn looked stronger now, than he had the last time he saw him. Of course, last time they had been pinned together by a stake and Penn had turned into dust. 'The cut at your mouth has healed.'  
  
Penn smiled knowingly. 'Your face tells me, what your mouth refuses to say. No matter, Sire. I know how you are when it comes to such touchy subjects. I think I'll leave you now. You're starting to get broody again. You're more fun when you're pummeling me.' Penn shrugged and made his way to the door. 'It was fun.'  
  
No it wasn't, Angel thought, as he watched his childe slip out the door.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
The knock at the door jarred Angel from his sleep. He shot up in bed and threw the covers off of himself, before he could get tangled in them. Angel didn't take the time to wonder when he had pulled covers on or when he had slipped off his boots. He didn't even wait for the headache he had, to die down before stumbling to the door and slinging it open. "What?!"  
  
Connor jumped back, when he saw Angel in the doorway. The kitten howled and clawed at the dark figure. "What's the matter? You're all fangs." Connor sniffed the air. Sweat, fear, and something else. "Having dreams?"  
  
Angel nodded and turned away from his son. Think happy thoughts, he thought to himself, as he slipped out of game-face. He turned back to Connor and, automatically focused on the kitten. "He smells like blood."  
  
Connor shook his head. "Not him. It's this." He held up the dead rat he had been holding and handed it to his father. "It was clinched in Skit's teeth. He was hiding under a bed, with it. I think he was afraid."  
  
Angel looked the rat over and closed his eyes. The cross carved on its belly and the missing head... It couldn't even be warranted as a warning. It was more of a promise of things to come. "He's been here, in the hotel."  
  
"Who?" Connor asked, while gripping his kitten tightly. The poor thing was about to have an aneurysm. It seriously looked like the animal was trying to crawl out of its skin.  
  
"Connor, I want you to leave for a while. Do you think you could stay with Fred and Cordelia, for a while. I know they wouldn't mind. I don't want you to be here, for what may happen in the next few days." Connor started to protest, so Angel pulled the trump card. "Take Skittles away from here. He'll get hurt."  
  
Connor looked down at his kitty and nodded. What if that rat had been Skittles? He would have died a little inside, if anything had happened to the kitten. "I'll take him away but if you need my help, call me."  
  
Angel agreed that he would and pulled Connor into, a slightly awkward hug.  
  
"Angel, I think I should stay." Connor was worried about his dad. Angel never pulled him into hugs. "And we're squishing Skittles." Connor stepped back, out of his father's arms and looked down at the puffy kitten.  
  
"No, you go on." Angel ruffled the cat's head, which pulled a growl out of the little guy. "We'll be okay."  
  
"All right." Connor turned and sighed. "But I'll only be a few blocks away, if you need anymore muscle."  
  
"I know, and Connor... I love you, too." Angel smiled at his son, as he walked down the hall, toward his room. He would probably call the girls and pack an overnight bag, before he left. Smart boy, Angel decided, with pride  
  
"Well, I guess I should look for Spike." Angel went to the stairs and headed up. He was sniffing out Spike, which was off limits, according to Spike, but Angel didn't care. He ended up in front of Lorne's doorway and knocked. "Can I come in?"  
  
"Are you gonna' tell me what the hell is going on?" Spike yelled from the other side of the door.  
  
"Will you let me in if I say I will?" Angel leaned his head against the wood and sighed.  
  
"Yes. Move your big Neanderthal sized forehead away from the door, before you tumble, on your way in." Angel took a step back and Spike opened the door. "So, you going to tell me what's up?"  
  
"No." Angel smirked, when the door slammed in his face. This was going to be a long night.  
  
TBC  
  
(Okay, first off, thank you for the lovely reviews. I love you guys, so much. Secondly, I didn't get to see the BTVS finale until last night (Wednesday, I had mommy dearest tape it for me) and I was so, so upset. I was planning on finishing this chap. last night, but I lost the will. Then, I gained it back today after reading a couple of really sweet reviews. Oh, and I hope Penn isn't disappointing you, cause he's really looking for approval. Poor guy. I can't help but love him.)  
  
-The sub-title 'Dust in the Wind' is a wonderful song by the exceptional band Kansas. I love them!--  
  
--Skittles is based on my cousin's cat Nicolae a.k.a. 'Nicky'. He's a rascal, to say the least. My cat is lethargic and an absolute sweet heart.-- 


	9. The Battle of Who Could Care Less

I don't own BTVS or Angel, although I would probably sell my lil' sister for one or the other. I don't own the guys in this story, but I would buy them if they were up for grabs. Now that I think about it, I'll probably try some type of barter system, seeing as how my dad would probably not appreciate me putting a price tag on his youngest child. Anyway, Joss is crazily wonderful, I'm just crazy, and you guys are the bestest. Thank you for all the love! I can't get over how sweet you are. It keeps me going. Anyway, enough of this mush.  
  
On with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- The Battle of Who Could Care Less::  
  
"You're going to look like your pregnant if you keep eating like that." Lorne watched Spike put down another slice of pizza and shook his head.  
  
Wesley rubbed his temples, trying to force the headache he was getting, away. "How many have you had, so far, Spike?"  
  
"Two." Spike said around a mouthful of sauce and pepperoni.  
  
"That's not so many Lorne." Wesley offered, as an argument for Spike's side.  
  
"He's had two pizzas, not slices. He's eating out of depression and he needs to stop." Lorne smiled at the young man, lounging in his chair.  
  
Wesley looked up, with a smirk. "Two whole pizzas? Are you sure he's *not* pregnant?"  
  
"What? Angel starts having nightmares again and suddenly another vampire has to be pregnant? Well, not only is it not possible... it's not possible. Many different reasons why and I'm not going into it." Spike took another bite of pizza and groaned. He spit out an olive and sniffed. "Your pizza's getting mixed up with mine. Take that slice. I only got a bite." Spike put the piece back in the box and pushed it toward Wesley.  
  
Wesley reached for the proffered slice and took a bite. "It's getting cold. You want me to warm it up?"  
  
"No. It will give Angel another chance to try and come in. I wanna' play 'fort' a little while longer." Spike stood up and started to pace up and down the room, hands clinched behind his back. "You guys having fun?"  
  
Wesley curled his upper lip and shook his head. "Not especially. I haven't played fort since I was three and my older brother was five. Come to think of it, I didn't have any fun then either. My brother was and is a real jerk. Mum came in and told us to clean up before our father whipped our hides for making a mess."  
  
"Sounds like a real nice guy, that one." Spike laughed ruefully. "Didn't know my own dad, but I can relate on the whipping of the hide. Let's just say I made a lot of messes as a fledgling." Spike collapsed on the bed and sighed. "Stupid poof won't tell me what's got him all..."  
  
Spike was cut off by a knock at the door and a voice reaching out to him from beyond it. "Spike, let me in."  
  
"You bein' hacked up to bits by an unknown monster, who's out to kill me?" Spike asked, snidely.  
  
"No." Angel banged his head against the door and sighed.  
  
"Well, bugger all. Why don't you just die already?" Spike shook his head and walked over to the door. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to open it or not. Yes, he really wanted to stand his ground and not let Angel in, unless he decided to give in to his demands, but he also wanted Angel to be there with him; to reassure him that nothing was going to happen to them.  
  
Spike knew that Angel was no longer standing outside the door. He stared at the wooden barricade he had placed between them. So many decisions. So many shades of gray. Spike looked back at Wesley and Lorne, who were whispering conspiratorially about Lorne's dream interpretations. Spike made his decision and slipped out the door, in search of his Sire. He shut the door behind him, quietly, and sniffed the air. I'm such a hypocrite, he decided, as he followed his Sire's scent.  
  
He walked the hallways and made his way downstairs. He found Angel in the kitchen leaning over the sink, dishtowel draped over his left shoulder. "Your hands all prune-like, yet?"  
  
Angel shook his head, but didn't turn toward his childe. "It's Penn. I'm sure you know it by now. That last night, with you-- William-- wasn't a dream, was it?"  
  
"No, it was me. It was dishonest, I know, but you were being so..."  
  
"I know. I don't hold it against you. I should have told you before. I just didn't know how to bring it up." Angel laughed, without an ounce of happiness in the sound. "I guess I really should have just blurt it out, when you asked me. Everything about Penn brings up guilt with me. Guilt about him dying. Guilt about being the cause, twice. He wants to tear apart the family, one by one. Darla's already gone, and Dru..." Angel turned toward Spike and leaned back against the counter. "I'm sorry Spike."  
  
It took Spike a moment to find the meaning behind what Angel was not saying, but when it hit, it hit pretty hard. "She's dead?" Spike nodded, acceptingly. "I knew it would happen sometime and its not like we were still together, but..." Spike slumped down to the floor and buried his face in his hands. He hated crying, especially when someone was around, but the rush of emotion had a hold of him. Apparently, so did Angel. Spike leaned into the hug Angel had him trapped in and sobbed.  
  
"I know. I felt it too. When he told me what happened, I felt the sense of loss. To lose a childe..." Angel gripped Spike to him and sighed. What could he say to make it better? Nothing. He had caused Dru so much pain in the past that he really had no room to talk, but what he had said so far seemed to make Spike stop crying.  
  
"What he told you?" Spike pulled back from his Sire and looked him in the eyes. "You talked to Penn? I thought it was all images."  
  
Angel sat back on his heals and nodded. "Not last night. After you left, he came into my head and we had a long talk. I think he may have lost whatever bit of sanity he had left."  
  
"Well, Angelus, you know very well that every one of our bloodline is just a little crazy." Spike examined his nails and smirked. "I haven't painted my nails since I got here. All the paint has chipped off. These aren't my hands. These are William's hands. Think I should start writing again?" Spike smiled up at his Sire.  
  
"No, I think we should send Wesley out to buy some black nail polish and you and I should spend a night drinking O-negative and watching Monty Python." Angel stood and pulled Spike with him. "How does that sound?"  
  
Spike shrugged, as if it didn't make a difference. In all honesty, it made all the difference in the world. Angel cared about what was going on in Spike's head. He cared about what happened to their family and he was willing to take responsibility for it. "So, we gonna' start on the 'Holy Grail' or 'The Meaning of Life'?" Spike hated to admit it, but Angel was more of a role model now than Angelus had ever been to him, in the past.  
  
"I think Wesley has the old 'Flying Circus' tapes, in his room." Angel walked over to the fridge and pulled out a couple of bags of blood. "I've sent Connor and Skittles away. I don't think Penn would be stupid enough to hit us right away. I'm not even sure if he's in town."  
  
"He has to die." Spike said it as if he was stating the sky was blue. It was an absolute. Penn had to die.  
  
Angel shook his head, as he put the bags of blood into the microwave. "I can't kill him Spike. He's my childe. I can kill him as easily as I could kill you." Angel turned around and caught Spike's disbelieving look. "Okay, a little easier than I could kill you, but not that much easier."  
  
Spike shrugged. "I'll kill him. After I hurt him, real bad." Spike said it with a smirk. "I want to make him squeal."  
  
Angel nodded and pulled his blood bag out of the microwave. "I can relate." He vamped out and ripped into the bag, sucking it dry.  
  
Spike went over to the microwave and pushed Angel over to the side, so he could reach his bag. He looked at it and shook his head. "You eat. If you're going to save me from my deranged brother you need your strength. I'll go up and start the VCR." He placed the bag on the counter and headed upstairs.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Can I get you any thing else?" The girl was dressed as a stewardess. His skirt was a little short and her shirt's top two buttons were undone, but she still looked like a stewardess. "Sir?"  
  
Penn looked down at the girls feet and grinned. She wore shoes that resembled that of what his mother would have worn, except they were attached to a pair of four-inch heals. "Yes, I could use a drink."  
  
He smiled at the girl and lowered his glasses, so that he was gazing at her over the frames. She really was beautiful, in a natural sort of way. Soft, smooth skin and light brown hair, which was swept back in a high ponytail. Her lips were full and naturally pink. Roses bloomed in her cheeks and her eyes were a bright blue and fringed with dark lashes. They missed that keen sense of intelligence that he was looking for, but they still reminded him of... "Hmm."  
  
"So what can I get you?" She asked with a grin. This customer was cuter than most of the guys who came in here. It wasn't exactly a cheap place, but the zoning sucked. It was right of the docks and only the bravest of the brave would consider stopping in for a drink. Her smile became brighter when the man lowered his glasses and peeked over the rims. He had such mesmerizing eyes.  
  
"I'll have a bourbon." Penn placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and grinned. The girl was already in love. Girls were so easy.  
  
The girl walked over to the bar and gave the bartender his order. He watched he lean over the counter and smiled. She really should try to be less obvious, he thought to himself. You never knew when you were meeting up with the devil, after all.  
  
The girl hurried back to Penn's side, drink in hand. "Here you are, sir."  
  
"Thank you." He took the drink and sipped at it. "Go ahead and draw up my bill." Penn smiled at the girl's disappointment. He had a fan and he like the feeling it brought on. He watched he make her way to the cash register and sipped his drink, all the while. It tasted like Angel smelled: bittersweet, familiar. It was rich and velvety, while it burned like an ember. It was perfection. He sighed happily.  
  
Everything was going to plan. He was getting into Angel's head and soon he could finish what he started. He could pull together their family, while ripping it to pieces. A paradox, he knew, but it was the most logical way to go about this. He wasn't like Spike. Spike was a creature of spite and love rolled into one. He always had been. Penn was a creature of habit and revenge.  
  
Penn knew that the loss of Dru would be hard for Angel in a wounded pride, sort of way. Penn had destroyed something Angel had created. It wasn't a wound, so much as an insult, he decided. Spike, on the other hand, would hurt over it. Dru had been his princess; she had been his lover for over one hundred and twenty years and now she was gone.  
  
Penn stood and laid down his empty glass. He made his way over to the bar and waited for a greeting by his waitress. She had a bill in her hand and a smile on her face. "I'll be getting off of work in ten minutes." She gave him a candid little smile and shuffled her feet.  
  
He handed her a bill and smiled back. "Keep the change, princess." Penn turned and walked away from the sweet smiling waitress. He walked away from her suffocating perfume and her irritating naiveté. It took him two seconds to decide that the girl had to die. As trusting as she was, she'd probably ended up dying soon, anyway.  
  
He stopped outside the front door and looked around. The sky was a deep violet color, the sea reflected in the clouds. The air was thick with the smell of fish and sweat. Penn took in everything about the docks. The men loading and unloading ships, strong muscle and sinew rippling beneath the bare skin of their torsos. Others were setting up booths that would open in the early morning, so that they could sell their catch. He could practically hear the blood rush through their systems. Strong men with strong blood.  
  
"I didn't think you would wait for me." The voice was soft and sweet.  
  
"I didn't mean to. I got caught up in the moment." Penn turned a teasing glance to the young woman. She had changed into a pair of khaki slacks and a black sleeveless turtleneck. To late, young lady, he thought, I've come to suck your blood. He grinned at her and offered her his arm. "My name is Penn."  
  
"Really? I'm Pamela." She giggled like a little girl and sighed. "Two P's." They walked down the nearest alley and toward the main road.  
  
"Yes." He agreed. "Two 'P's' in a pod, really." He looked down at the girl and frowned. She was *too* easy. He almost thought about letting her go. She was a child... but when did that pose a problem? "Where do you live? I'll walk you home."  
  
The girl shook her head. "I want to go dancing. Do you dance?"  
  
Penn grinned. "I wasn't allowed to, as a child and I never really took time to learn. I can sway, though. Will that do?"  
  
She nodded. "That'll work. I'm sure that you look better swaying, than most guys look dancing. I would like to sway, with you." Her gripped tightened on Penn's arm and she shivered. "It's cold."  
  
The girl was making it too easy for him. He reached around her and turned her, so that her back faced the brick wall. He pressed her up to it and leaned in to sniff her neck. "You smell sweet. Would you like me to warm you up?"  
  
She giggled and pressed his head closer to her neck. " Please, do."  
  
Penn took the chance to lean in and lap at her the skin that lay over her pulse. She sighed and slumped in his arms. He bit in, pulling a gasp out of the young woman. She went rigid and gripped at his shoulders. He pet her hair and purred as he took in slow droughts of her blood. She tasted like chocolate covered pennies, sweet and coppery. He lapped at the puncture wounds on her neck and smiled over the humming in his veins. She was dead, limp and lifeless. "I'm sorry, my dear. I seemed to make you even colder." Penn picked the girl up and cradled her to his chest. "But I do have to say, you swayed wonderfully."  
  
Penn held the girl close and carried her to the main road. He pretended that it was giving him some trouble and stumbled out the curb. He propped her against a wall and called down a taxi. After getting her into the cab, he pushed the hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear.  
  
"Got a stiff, huh? She pass out before your night on the town was through?" The cabbie grinned back at him and he couldn't help return the smile. "I get lots of people in that condition that come through here. So, where to?"  
  
Penn thought a moment and shrugged. "I guess I should drop her off at home. Do you know where the Hyperion Hotel is?"  
  
The cabby nodded and put the car into gear. "I'll have you there in a jiffy."  
  
"Thank you." Penn said, as he settled back into his seat and enjoyed the ride.  
  
TBC  
  
Thank you for your reviews. Please don't stop now. I really love the praise. *g* You are the best, really. I hope I'm not disappointing any of you. This really is turning out differently than I even expected. It won't be so dark for long, of course. It's getting there that's the problem. Anyway, thank you for the patience. I've been on the road all weekend and this chapter was bubbling up in my mind the whole time. I'm just happy to get it written down.  
  
-The sub-title is 'The Battle of Who Could Care Less' which is a song by the talented and hilarious group 'Ben Fold's Five'. They are amazing.- 


	10. I Sing the Body Electric

I don't own BTVS or Angel but I'm working it out with some people, so that I can lease one or the other. That is, if I can afford it after I'm done moving. If not I'm going to seek out a rich, eccentric husband, who is willing to humor me and my whims. I don't own the guys in this story, but I sure would if I was given the opportunity. Anyway, Joss is my sunshine on a cloudy day and you are each a little piece of rainbow that brightens up my life. So, without further ado...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- I Sing the Body Electric::  
  
"No. I'm sorry, Spike, but I don't think John Cleese is qualified to be the President of the United States." Angel grinned at his childe, who was excitedly talking about his ideas to save the U.S., by employing old English comedians to do the jobs of the nation's politicians.  
  
"Yes, that may be so, Angel, but think logically. Were the last three Presidents qualified for the job? No, but they still did it. So, if we are going to have an unqualified man in office, he might as well be an interesting public speaker. That way we will feel compelled to watch those 'special bulletins from the White House', instead of throwing empty beer bottles at the television and busting up the screen." Spike took a gulp of his beer and sighed. "The beer tastes like piss and yet... I don't care."  
  
"That happens when you you've been made a target." Angel frowned. He hated that Spike was in trouble. He hated that his family was in trouble. He hated having to send Connor away. He hated sending Skittles away. He hated that Penn was alive and he hated that he had died in the first place. Why was life so difficult, even after death?  
  
"Come on, Sire. Be serious. I've been a target since I was fourteen years old. I hadn't grown into my hands or feet; my arms were too long, my cheeks to sharp, and I wrote bloody awful poetry. You think of Penn as a big evil. I think of him as a big bully." Spike shrugged. "I've had my share of bullies, ta. I'm not gonna' let Penn get me scared, just cause he wants to upset you. That would feed his ego a little more than is to my liking."  
  
"I hate that you were picked on, as a human. It makes me wish that we had spent more time killing those maggots when I had the chance." Angel slumped into his chair.  
  
"Angel!" Spike grinned. "Bad vampire, no blood!"  
  
Angel shrugged. " I don't have to feel guilty over their souls, do I? Most of them died from old age or disease, anyway. The others..."  
  
"Got spikes through their skulls." Spike stared at the ceiling. "I'm supposed to carry the guilt over 'em."  
  
"Try not to. You'll lose your sense of humor." Angel watched Spike lean his head back further and smiled. "You should watch out who you bear your neck to. You might get bit."  
  
"I'm going to invent vampire repellent: a little mixture of garlic and holy water. If I add Colloidal Silver it could get rid of the werewolves, too." Spike looked up at his Sire with a grin. "Do you think I could patent it?"  
  
"Maybe." Angel grinned. "But you couldn't wear it. The holy water would make you sizzle and the garlic would make you susceptible to attack by any Italian woman worth her salt."  
  
Spike scoffed. "You aren't very good at making jokes, I hope you know."  
  
"Who's joking?" Angel smiled, as Spike made a show of rolling his eyes and waving an arm at his Sire. "I've tasted Italian women. I know."  
  
"You know nothing. Italian women don't taste like garlic. They taste like... basil. So good." Spike smiled. "I like Southern girls. They have cute accents and they taste like sweet potatoes."  
  
"No." Angel disagreed. "Spanish girls are best. They're spicy and sweet."  
  
"We're sick, you know?" Spike stated, with a sigh. "Cordelia would beat your ass, if she heard you talking like that."  
  
"Oh, and she wouldn't beat yours?" Angel asked, as he got out of his seat and turned off the TV, which had turned blue and started buzzing.  
  
"No. She expects this sort of talk out of me. Not you, though. You've seemed to have sunk to my level." Spike grinned proudly.  
  
Angel shook his head. Spike looked like he had just won the lottery and it was being paid in cigarettes. "To tell the truth, I've always been on this level. I just talk more when you're around."  
  
"So I'm a good influence on you? I'm sure..." Spike started but was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Who is it?!" Spike huffed. He hated being interrupted.  
  
"It's Gunn. Is it safe to come in there?"  
  
"Yeah. Wait a sec." Spike got up from his seat and went over to the door, so he could unlock it for Gunn. "Come in." He said as he made his way back to his seat.  
  
"Is there a reason that you two are hiding out in here with the door locked?" Gunn asked from his place in the doorway. "Cause if you two are busy I could leave and come back later. I'd hate to be interrupting something."  
  
"No, you're only busting up a reminiscing session." Spike gave the young man a fake smile. "Have a seat. Take a chair."  
  
Gunn walked in and took a look around. He rarely came into Angel's room, but he knew that the vampire usually kept it really clean. At the moment, tapes were spread out on the ground in front of the television and beer cans were scattered around the waste paper basket, as if someone had been shooting them at the can and missed. "'Reminiscing session' mean party in vampire?"  
  
"What are you doing here? I thought you had taken a sabbatical." Spike looked the man up and down. If it was possible, he seemed to be even more cocky looking than last time he saw him. "Did you some good." He said, with a grin.  
  
"Yeah, I feel rested. I knew that you and Angel could hold down the fort." Gunn grinned at Spike and shrugged. "I got some free time and now I'm ready for action."  
  
"Seems that you got plenty of that while you were away. You smell like women's perfume and... lightning. Does that make sense?" Spike spared Angel a glance and caught a knowing look on his face. He figured he would just let it slide and ask his Sire about it later. "Never mind. I probably don't want to know."  
  
"Hey, I've been waiting in the car for a while and I don't feel like I'm getting' any closer to an ice cream." Fred walked into the room, while untangling a strand of her hair from her overall strap. She looked up and saw Spike, Angel, and Gunn all staring at her. "What?"  
  
Spike leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his fists. "You are precious." Without knowing it, Spike had inadvertently spoke the thought of the other two men in the room.  
  
"I'm not precious." Fred blushed and looked everywhere but at Spike. "I'm a goof-ball. I have a hard time keeping my bra straps straight." Fred looked up, horrified. "I didn't mean to say that."  
  
"Don't fret, puppet." Spike shrugged. "We all say things we don't mean to say." Spike could see that Fred was still embarrassed, so he changed the subject. "So, how's the princess doing? She feeling any better?" Spike smiled at Fred, as she nibbled at her nails nervously. She *was* a precious girl. He wished that she could be around more, but she seemed dedicated to taking care of Cordelia, until her strength was back one hundred percent.  
  
"Yeah, she's feeling lots better. You know her strength is coming back more and more every day. She's still kinda' weirded out by the whole you and Spike thing, though." Fred nodded and shrugged. "She says that she can't get over the fact that you two can get over what's between you."  
  
"What's between us?" Angel asked, interested.  
  
Spike quirked a brow and grinned at the flustered girl. His Sire was anything but tactful.  
  
"I... I... I don't... She said that... I'm not sure." Fred sighed and looked over at Spike. The blonde vampire kept looking at her like she was a puppy or something. She felt like he might reach out and pet her at any moment and she wasn't sure she hated the idea, as much as she should. "You're his childe."  
  
"Yeah, pet." Spike grinned and leaned forward a little, in his seat. "I'm his childe."  
  
Fred took a breath and let it out slowly. Wow, Spike's eyes were blue. "Do you have to obey him?"  
  
"No." "Yes." Spike and Angel seemed to have different opinions, which pulled an amused laugh out of Gunn, who was leaning against the wall, rather quietly.  
  
"No." Spike tried to clear up the misunderstanding, while sending his Sire a scowl.  
  
"He's supposed to." Angel interpreted his answer. "Doesn't mean he does."  
  
"Don't sound so pouty, Sir Mopes-a-lot. It's not like I ever did obey you." Spike looked up at his Sire and caught the grin that was spreading across his features. "Now, stop with the smug look. I only obeyed you when it was good for me and you know it."  
  
"Uh-huh." Angel's grin grew wide.  
  
"She said that you tried to kill Angel." Fred looked down at her feet, so that she wouldn't have to look Spike in the eyes.  
  
"He did." Angel agreed.  
  
"Never did!" Spike was aghast. He had done no such thing. "Yeah, I was pissed. I had you tortured, sure-- but never did I try to kill you. If I had, you would be dead." Spike confided in his Sire.  
  
"Uh-huh." Angel laughed when Spike stuck his tongue out at him and turned away.  
  
"Stupid pouf. Soddin' humorin' wanker. Nasty bad stupid dumb gaffer..." Spike mumbled under his breath. "See, cupcake, I had him stabbed to little pieces with hot pokers, cause he stole something that belonged to me. Seems he threw it away, too. Stupid." He hissed the last word under his breath.  
  
Angel ignored the insults Spike muttered. He knew that he probably shouldn't comment where the Ring of Amara was concerned. He hadn't stolen it, but he had thrown it away and sometimes he felt as stupid over that, as Spike seemed to think he was.  
  
Fred didn't know what to say. Cordelia told her about the Spike she remembered: a soulless killer, with a crazy vampire girlfriend. It also seemed that both were sired by Angelus, Angel's evil counterpart. Things were so confusing here, at Angel Investigations. Sometimes she wondered why she hadn't gone back to Texas with her parents, when she had the chance. Then, she would look at Angel with his kind eyes and warm smile-okay, frown- -- and she would remember the feelings she had carried for her hero. Then, there was Gunn. She sighed mentally and looked up to find Spike staring at her, worriedly. "What?"  
  
"Are you okay? You seemed to be somewhere else just now." Spike's concern was written across his brows and reached toward his mouth. He hated to see little women worrying over things. He hated it when Dru would worry, albeit she was worried that elves would steal her hairbrushes and build a metropolis out of 'em. He hated it when Dawn would worry about her sister and vice versa.  
  
"Yeah, well, I was just thinking about things. I have trouble concentrating on things not Science related." Fred bounced her head side to side and sighed. [Egad!] "I would probably pay better attention to you if you were reading out of a Biology book, or something."  
  
"You're a lil' bit crazy aren't cha'?"  
  
Fred grinned at the vampire and nodded. "A little."  
  
Gunn took the two in and narrowed his gaze. "Maybe we should get back to Cordelia. Connor can't keep her busy for long, without the two of them going silent. The kitten helps, but not..."  
  
"ANGEL!"  
  
Angel and Spike jumped up from their seats and headed toward the door, with Gunn and Fred on their heals. They reached the staircase and looked down at Lorne who stood in the lobby.  
  
"You might want to come down here, Sugar. You too, Spike." If it was possible, Lorne looked even greener than usual. He saw Fred and Gunn walk into veiw and smiled weakly. "You may want to stay back with Gunn, Freddie- pie."  
  
Fred took Lorne's advice and stood behind Gunn. She knew better than to rush into anything around here.  
  
Gunn was about to die. He wanted to be down there, in the middle of the action. What was down there that was so interesting, anyway?  
  
Spike got downstairs first and grimaced. "Dear, God."  
  
"Penn." Angel exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding. He walked over to the couch and looked down at the girl, lying on her side. She had crosses carved all over her face and arms and her belly was cut open, entrails missing.  
  
"Deja vu." Spike looked over at Wesley who was leaning against the couches back watching the lifeless girl. "You find her?"  
  
Wesley looked up at Spike and nodded. "She was leaned against the door. I thought she was drunk, but I was wrong."  
  
"Holy sh... Damn!" Gunn groaned from behind the group of men. "She's dead, right?"  
  
"Oh, my... oh my, God." Fred gasped and grabbed onto the closest 'person' before she could swoon. It just happened to be Spike.  
  
Spike ignored the young woman, as he watched his Sire lift the young woman's hair and gaze at the scar on her neck. "So, what does this mean. You know, other than Penn is in town?"  
  
Angel thought for a moment and smiled, grimly. "It means that we better get ready." Angel dropped the girl's hair and shook his head. "Seems that we have a family feud on our hands."  
  
TBC  
  
--Thanks for the reviews guys. You're the best. Okay, I want you guys to know that any grammatical error in my story is not because of my ignorance in the English language. It is actually because I have very little time to type, lately, and I don't have a proofreader (Beta). I guess that is sloppy of me and I apologize. My muse is not the most important thing to me when it comes to stories. To tell the truth, he is quite... pissy. We argue incessantly. Also, I guess I should tell you all that Cordy hasn't been in this story because a) I don't think I'm good at writing Cordelia and b) I feel that after all that has gone on, she probably just wanted to stay out of the way at Angel Investigations for a while. I know I would. Oh well, I can change it. I guess that's it for now.-  
  
-'I Sing the Body Electric' is a poem by the incomparable Walt Whitman. You should probably only read it if you are a mature and responsible reader. Others should skip it. *shrug* You know who you are, most likely.- 


	11. Crossroads

I don't own Angel or BTVS, but I won them in a game of craps once and I was stupid enough to up the ante with 'em and lose, in a game of poker. Oh, well. Maybe next time. I don't own any of the guys in this fic, but if I did I would buy a strip club and make them dance non-stop for the rest of the mortal lives. Anyway, Joss is dark chocolate, you guys are honey- covered peanuts, and I am in a blissful stupor. Thank for all of the great reviews. Well, I guess it's time for me to say...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- Crossroads::  
  
"This is stupid." Spike yelled at his Sire. "We're sitting around looking at a dead girl-- like we haven't seen one before-and Penn could be one or two blocks away, laughing his arse off!"  
  
"Spike, settle down please." Angel was gripping his head. The headache had started earlier that night and had gotten steadily worse, since he saw the young woman on his couch. "You're upsetting Fred."  
  
"No, Angel. No I'm not. The dead woman on the couch is upsetting Fred. I'm upsetting you." Spike started pacing up and down the floor. "Maybe Gunn should take Fred back to Cordelia and Connor."  
  
"Or maybe I should bring Cordelia and Connor here." Gunn spoke up, after regaining his stomach. "It would probably be better if we weren't split up. You know how that usually ends, in the movies."  
  
"Yeah, the black man always gets killed first." Wesley stated dryly, from his place behind the desk.  
  
"I was supposed to say the punch line." Gunn muttered. "It's funnier that way."  
  
Fred sighed heavily, as she took in the picture before her. Lorne sat in a chair gulping down a beer. Fred wasn't sure she had ever seen Lorne drink a beer, let alone gulp one down. Wesley stood behind the desk, apparently pretending that a dead woman wasn't lying on the couch fifteen feet away from him. Spike was ranting and pacing, telling his Sire how stupid he thought he was and how much valuable time they were wasting. Gunn looked like he was trying to figure out whether now was a good time to fight with Wesley, or not. Then, there was Angel. Angel was placid. He had the calmest look she had ever seen, right there on his face. It was very disturbing. "Angel, what's going to happen?"  
  
Angel smiled at the girl and shrugged. "I'm going to bed." Angel turned toward the stairs and headed up to his room. He spared Gunn a glance and smiled. "Get rid of the girl on your way to Cordelia's, okay? Fred, you're welcome to stay here if you would feel safer with me and Spike."  
  
Gunn was trying to figure out what was going on in Angel's head. One glance at the others in the room told him that they were clueless, as well. "You want me to go to Cordelia and Connor, while Fred stays here?"  
  
Angel stopped at the head of the stairs and turned around. "Why do I have to explain everything to everyone? Fred can go or stay. She is safe either way. I need you with Cordelia and Connor. Connor is strong, but he wouldn't be able to take on Penn by himself, especially while he was worrying over Cordy and Skittles. That fine with you?"  
  
"Hey, you're the boss." Gunn shrugged. "Now, about this dead woman..."  
  
Angel sighed. He did have to explain everything. "Dump her in an alley. Someone will find her."  
  
"Angel?" Fred was confused. Just leaving the girl in an alley? That didn't seem right.  
  
"We don't have time to mess with her." Angel stated, now annoyed. Why were they always questioning his motives?  
  
"Oh, and you have time to sit down and take a nap. That's peachy. Well, dream of kittens and fluffy pillows, Sire! Oh, and while you're there, why don't you get mauled and smothered?" Spike was irate, until he caught the look on his Sire's face. "Oh, right then. I get it."  
  
Angel smiled and nodded. His childe was almost unbearably stupid sometimes, but other times... he was just slightly stupid. "Goodnight all." Angel went to his room, in hopes of a disturbing light nap.  
  
Spike chuckled to himself. Of course! Every time Angel closed his eyes Penn seemed to be right there with him. Angel was going to go see if he could find any hints to where the psychopath was calling home. Penn always dropped clues. It made the cat and mouse games, he liked so much, progress. Which, in essence, made things a lot more interesting for Penn and a lot easier on Angel. Why hadn't he figured it out before? He was so stupid.  
  
Fred looked over at Spike, dejectedly. "He wants her to be dropped off in an alley."  
  
Spike shrugged. He didn't see anything wrong with his Sire's logic, anymore. It was true. They didn't have time to mess with the dead woman. Spike looked up at Fred and, suddenly, he felt like a cad. He scratched the back of his neck and sighed. "Look, puppet, I'm sure that the cops'll find her and then her family will be alerted and all will be right with the world, once more." Spike placed a reassuring hand on Fred's shoulder and squeezed. "Don't you worry about it, kay?"  
  
"Okay." Fred agreed. "I'll be glad when this is over. Whatever it is. Can I ask a question, though?"  
  
"Yup." Spike figured Fred deserved to know what was going on and whatever she asked he was sure he would be willing to answer.  
  
"Who is Penn and why does he want to hurt you and Angel?"  
  
Spike groaned. He had asked for it, hadn't he? "He's the black sheep of the family. Well, not really. Actually Angel was that for a while and then I just *had* to join the club, now didn't I? Penn was... he was perfectly melded to be a psycho bad-ass vampire. Problem was, he was just way to predictable. Kinda' like a serial murderer. Lots of fireworks, but no real sparks."  
  
"Fireworks have sparks, Spike." Wesley put in, amusedly.  
  
"I need a drink." Lorne headed toward the kitchen with a grunt.  
  
"I second that opinion. I'm gonna' have to carry Miss Jane Doe off in a minute. So, I better prepare myself." Gunn followed in Lorne's footsteps.  
  
"Well, Wes, my friend. I really wouldn't know that, would I?" Spike grinned. "I like to stay away from sparks, as much as possible. You know I may be into pain, but I don't believe in self-immolation. Way too sadistic for my taste."  
  
"Said the blood sucking fiend." Wesley stated, on a laugh.  
  
"I really want to lay down." Fred looked around the room and exhaled a long, shuddering breath. "Heh, no couch."  
  
Spike closed the space in between him and Fred and grabbed the girl under the arms. "I'm going to take you upstairs. As in, carry you. That okay, cause you're looking faint?"  
  
"I always look like this. I'm very pail and thin." Fred nodded.  
  
Spike wasn't sure whether Fred was giving her permission to Spike, with the nod, or just reinstating her opinion of herself. He really didn't care. "You are kinda' scrawny." Spike said as he swung the girl up in his arms.  
  
"Can I ask you some more questions?" Fred asked, as she laid her head on Spike's shoulder.  
  
Spike nodded. "Yeah, pet. Ask away."  
  
"Do you like me?" All the sweet looks and honest concern were nice, but Fred wasn't sure whether she liked the idea of a vampire (that wasn't Angel) liking her.  
  
Fred sounded nervous, which almost made Spike laugh out loud. He would have, but he really didn't want to injure the girl's feelings. "You're an alright bird, I suppose. Couldn't 'like you' like you, though."  
  
"Why not?" Okay, so maybe the thought was unsettling, but she hadn't really expected Spike to shoot down the idea that fast!  
  
Fred actually sounded insulted, which made spike want to laugh all the more. "You're too puny, too smart, too sweet, and way too tempting. Now, shut your yap, say your prayers, and go to sleep." Spike put Fred down on the bed and grinned at the girl. He had put her in the room next to his. He wanted to make sure she was safe, if she was planning on staying here tonight.  
  
Fred looked around the room in awe. How had Spike gotten her here so fast? "How can I say my prayers if I've closed my mouth?"  
  
"See?" Spike pointed an accusing finger at Fred. "That's why I can't like you. That's why Angel can't like you. You are to bloody precious." He hadn't meant to sound angry. Somehow his voice just came out that way. Spike softened his approach and sighed. "Just go to sleep, pet."  
  
Fred nodded, a worried frown etched across her face. "All right. G'night, Spike."  
  
"Goodnight." Spike mumbled, as he shut the door behind him. "Bleedin' innocents. Drive a man crazy, they do. "  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
'Hello, Sire.' Penn was lounging on Angel's bed, his right angle crossed over the left, hands folded behind his neck. 'How are you faring? Well, I hope.'  
  
'I'm doing quite well. Thank you for the little present you left me, boyo. It was a beautiful sentiment.' Angel smiled at his Childe. Penn really looked proud of himself.  
  
'You're very welcome, Sire. I really didn't think you would appreciate it. Though to be perfectly honest, I'm very happy to see that you do.' Penn sat up and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. 'You can't trick me, you know.'  
  
'Trick you? I don't want to trick you, darling boy. I want to compel you.' Angel smiled darkly and stalked toward his Childe.  
  
'To compel me to do what?' Penn leaned back and looked up at the towering form of his Sire.  
  
'Don't look so worried, my boy. I wouldn't make you do anything you didn't want to do.' Angel's laughter came out in small bursts. 'Well, you know what I mean.'  
  
'What is going on, Sire? You are up to something.' Penn wasn't worried, per se. He was cautious. He knew Angelus well, but Angel was still a mystery to him.  
  
'To tell the truth, I just wanted to talk.' Angel sat down next to Penn and bounced on the edge of the bed. "You know, chat. We really should talk about all of this.'  
  
Penn let out a short barking laugh and shook his head. 'Spike's right. You are a woman.' Penn leaned back into his earlier position and grinned at Angel. 'I guess we haven't talked in a while, so I'll humor you. What you like to talk about? Not our feelings, I hope.'  
  
'No.' Angel shook his head, as he pulled his feet up on the bed and leaned back. 'Scoot over. It's my bed. Gimme room.'  
  
Penn accommodated his Sire and sighed. 'It's a dream. You would think that you could make the bed bigger or something.'  
  
'I have no use of the bed getting bigger. Now, do I?' Angel flashed Penn a look and arched a brow.  
  
'No, I suppose not.' Penn agreed. When all else fails with Angelus you learn to be agreeable. Penn remembered the phrase and he wasn't sure where he had heard it.  
  
'Darla.' Angel grinned at the shocked expression his Childe gave him. 'Yes, I know what you are thinking. It's strange. If I try really hard I can here clips and phrases of your thoughts. Sometimes I hear whole sentences.'  
  
'Almost like when I was a fledgling. You could almost read my mind then.'  
  
'No. I never really could read your mind. It was a matter of knowing where you came from and what you were going through. Plus, I put a lot of thoughts in your head. I was an evil bastard.' Angel shift uncomfortably in his spot on the bed.  
  
'Yeah.' Penn almost said it affectionately. 'Do you like the ocean?'  
  
'That was a quick change in subject. Yes, I like the ocean.'  
  
'You've stopped talking like Angelus. Now, everything seems... surreal." Penn shook his head quickly, consciously telling himself not to think too loud.  
  
Angel grinned. 'What about the ocean, Penn?'  
  
'You used to like it. I was just wondering if you like it still.' Penn shrugged.  
  
'I guess. All oceans look the same. Of course, when you look at it from all angles you get a completely different perspective on it.'  
  
'What do you mean?' What a curious thing to say, Penn thought.  
  
'I spent a little bit of time vacationing at the bottom of the Pacific. It was excessively cold and kind of dark. I don't really want to go back that much.' Angel shrugged. 'Maybe for a long weekend, but surely not for the Summer again.'  
  
'Angel, I would almost say that you are enjoying this little chat we're having.'  
  
'Almost.' Angel nodded. 'You're still planning on torturing Spike?'  
  
'Yup.'  
  
'See, now that would be the damper.'  
  
'Oh.' Penn shrugged. 'I guess it's up to you to stop me, huh?'  
  
'Yup.'  
  
'I see.' Penn threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. 'I really think it would be in my best interest, if I were to leave now. I really would like to stay, but you know I'm into self-preservation and all that.'  
  
Angel nodded. It was all right, he decided, he knew all he needed to know.  
  
'What do you mean about that?' Penn turned toward his Sire, cautiously.  
  
'Nothing, Penn. Goodbye.' For the first time in the last few weeks, Angel left his dreams first.  
  
TBC  
  
-Hey guys! Thanks for all the sweetness ya'll are throwing my way. Please continue. Oh and thank you for your undying patience. I'm finally moved completely and I'm settled in pretty well. I don't have as much access to a computer, as I did before. Thanks for bearing with me.-  
  
--The subtitle for this chapter was Crossroads, which is a movie headlined by... The Karate Kid. You thought I was gonna' say Brittney Spears didn't 'cha?-- 


	12. Starry Starry Night

I don't own Angel or BTVS but I would kill a village of leprechauns if I thought it would get me one step closer to it. I don't own the guys in this stury, or the girls for that matter, but I like to use their characters from the show and make them play out my seriously deranged, albeit fun little fantasies. So, We've established that I'm a little unbalanced, Joss is a genius, and you are the coolest people in the world, right? Good. Now here is the portion of the show were Larry comes out and sings a silly son... Wait. No. Here the part where I say...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- Starry (Starry) Night::  
  
"I don't know. I think they've all gone crazy." Gunn shrugged. He really didn't know what to say. Angel had sent him on his way, Spike only seemed interested in Penn's death and Fred's... cuteness was the only word he could come up with and Lorne seemed to be ready to go bar hopping, as soon as possible. Of course, Wesley was a little off, but he had been that way for as long as Gunn had known him.  
  
"They aren't crazy in the 'kill your neighbor' way, I hope. I hate it when they do that." Cordelia was leaning back on a basket-load of pillows. She was watching Gunn pace back in forth, which was really making her nervous, and Connor play with his kitten, which made her want to vomit. He looked much more his age when he was down in the corner making the cat run up the wall and she hated that. Connor, and technically her, had been through so many things in the last few months. Things she remembered in little mind numbing flashes. "Almost as much, as I hate it when I do that."  
  
Connor stopped running his fingers up the wall and looked up at Cordelia, which gave Skittles the opportunity to jump up and latch his claws into his forearm. Connor ignored the little parasite, until the pain was unbearable, and he yanked the kitten in toward his chest. "Cordy, do you have a laundry basket anywhere?" Skittles' ears perked up and he hissed at his master, before bolting out of his arms and into the kitchen.  
  
"I'm sure Fred has one hidden around here somewhere. Probably under one of the piles of clothes." Cordelia leaned over the couch edge and picked up a shirt that resembled something a Barbie would wear. Cordelia shook her head and smiled at the shirt. She could never wear such tiny, cutesy clothes. She threw the shirt behind her and leaned back into her pillows. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"Nevermind. I was threatening Skits. I think he got the message." Connor peaked around the couch back and discovered a little furry head peaking back at him, hair raised on end. "Or not." The fuzz ball took a running leap and landed on Connor's head. He tried to shake it off, but to no avail. Finally, he resorted to reaching up and manually removing the kitten from his, now bleeding, scalp. "I think Spike was right. Oh, God, I hate to say that."  
  
"What was he right about?" Gunn had taken a seat on the big fluffy chair, next to the couch. He looked at the boy, who was carefully holding the kitten down, while inspecting each and every claw, one by one.  
  
"We need to get Skittles declawed." Connor held Skittles' front two paws together, with one hand, and ran his other hand through his hair. He pulled it back and looked at it, just to make sure he didn't have a reason to spank the kitten. He didn't. "You little monster." Connor pulled the kitten up to his face and nuzzled it. To everyone's surprise, it nuzzled back.  
  
"I've seen this before. My mom went through that same thing, when I was a senior in High School. Skittles has menopause." Cordelia was nodding, as she stared at the Spackle on the ceiling.  
  
Gunn stifled a laugh, when he caught the bewildered look on Connor's face. Either the boy didn't know what menopause was or he did and he thought Cordelia was being serious.  
  
"What's men... oh...what was it called?" Connor dropped the kitten, when he just wanted to squeeze it tighter. It galloped around the living room and collapsed on it's side, when it reached a patch of sun coming in from the window on the far wall. "He's not really sick, is he?"  
  
"Yes." Gunn fought to keep a straight face, when the boy turned to face him. "It's contagious too."  
  
"What can you do to make it better?" Connor asked, as he got up from his place on the floor and walked over to pick up his kitten. Skittles saw him coming and hopped up, so he could bolt around the living room. He jump up onto the coffee table and succeeded in knocking over a small lamp.  
  
"You kill 'em." Cordelia sat up and leaned toward the table, so she could smack the furry flurry of destruction. It felt the whap across its backside and reared up on its back paws. It walked a couple of inches and then hopped off of the side of the table, so it could race around the room again.  
  
"You killed your mom?" Connor was worried, and more than a little confused, by this point. Wasn't murder a bad thing?  
  
"No." Cordelia shook her head and looked thoughtful. "She locked herself in her room with a bottle of tequila and we prayed she wouldn't need anything for the rest of the day."  
  
Gunn grinned widely. "Can we get Skittles drunk? He'll be trippin' all around the room, falling on his little furry face. It'll be fun."  
  
"No!" Connor stalked after his kitty and jumped on it, before it could run away again. He tucked it under his shirt and it wriggled its way up his chest, so it could stick its head out of the neck hole. It looked around for a way out, but to his dismay there was none to be found. To show his displeasure, he bit his master's chin and hissed quietly. "Nope, your not getting away, this time." He kitten tensed up, for a moment, and then slumped into Connor's neck. "That's a good kitty." Connor pet the kitten's head and it purred happily.  
  
Cordelia smiled up at Connor. "Don't worry about Skittles. He's not sick, Connor; he's a kitten. He's hyper, and playful, and he has claws. Sometimes he's going to hurt you, but I'm sure he doesn't mean to. He'll settle down, when he gets older. If he doesn't you can get him fixed."  
  
Gunn hissed and shook his head. "It's just so mean."  
  
"Fixed? Is he broken?"  
  
Cordelia shook her head and sighed. "No." It was like Connor was becoming the kid he should have been, to begin with. She really didn't know how to react to it. "He's not broken. It just means that you would get him snipped." Connor narrowed his gaze at Cordelia, which looked so serious and threatening, she had to laugh. "It won't hurt him. They'll just clip off his..." Cordelia stopped when she caught the look Gunn was shooting her.  
  
Connor looked between the two and started to get suspicious. It was obvious that they were hiding something from him. "What? They clip off his...?"  
  
Cordelia paled. How do you explain something like this to a kid... that you, apparently, slept with. You don't. She threw a pleading look, over at Gunn. He shuddered and groaned.  
  
"Okay. Look, Connor. When a little kitty matures, he is filled with urges..." Gunn stopped and shook his head, before letting it hang. "... and you have to..."  
  
"Are you giving me a sex talk?" Connor quirked a brow at Gunn and grinned at his discomfort.  
  
"No." Gunn looked up into Connor's grinning face and scoffed. "Teenagers are annoying. Look, when the kitten gets big, it will want to roam around looking for other cats; girl cats. Before it gets old enough to run away or get mean, most people have them 'fixed'. It mean that you get their..." Gunn put his hand out in a cupping motion and groaned. "... cut off."  
  
"You cut off their testicles?" Connor's eyes grew wide. "That's evil." Connor inadvertently squeezed Skittles tighter to him, as he jumped up from the floor and walked toward the bathroom. "That's sick." He slammed the door behind him and the other two could hear him cooing at his pet.  
  
"Connor slammed the door." Cordelia nodded slowly. "He is officially a normal teenager. You know... if you discount the demon hunting and his father and step father/brother being vampires."  
  
Gunn burst out laughing. "You're so bad."  
  
"Hey, I've been out of commission for a while. I need to make up for lost time, you know." Cordelia grinned at the man and threw a glance back at the hallway. "How long do you think he'll hide out in there?"  
  
"As long as it takes for him to get used to the idea of his kitten being emasculated. You realize he may never come out right?"  
  
"Yeah, I hope he has enough toilet paper in there." Cordelia snuggled back into her pillow and closed her eyes. Connor was a volatile teenager, Angel was out there saving one of his demented childer, and she was not the main evil at the moment. As far as she was concerned, all was right with the world.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
"The world is doomed." Spike sighed and threw a small pillow at the television set. "They canceled Dawson's Creek, people think Britney Spears wrote 'I Love Rock and Roll', and my roots are starting to show."  
  
"And that adds up to the world being doomed?" Lorne shook his head and took a sip of his drink. "I think you have a strange set of priorities, Sugar."  
  
"Like you have room to talk. Your main priority lately has been, to keep L.A.'s alcohol vendors up and running. I haven't seen you without a drink in your hand for the last few days."  
  
"I've been stressed." Lorne shrugged and took another sip of his drink.  
  
"You've been stressed? Well, it's nice to know that you are so worried about my well being, but if it causes you to be an alcoholic, I don't want you to care." Spike lay back on his bed and sighed. "Pass me a beer, won't you?" Spike shot a grin over at Lorne, making the demon laugh out loud. "That's a nice sound."  
  
"What's a nice sound?" Lorne asked, with a grin.  
  
"Laughter. The first thing I wanna' do after I kill Penn is tell Angel a joke that makes him laugh his arse off. Then I'm going to give myself a big pat on the back and reward myself, by snacking on Connor's cat." Spike grinned wider, as he got caught up in his reverie.  
  
"You have made bull-shitting into an art form, my friend." Lorne placed his drink down on the nearest table and walked over to the chair across from Spike's bed. He took a seat and groaned. "I've heard that it's a sign of getting old, if you can't get up from your chair or sit down in a chair, without making a noise."  
  
"That's funny. I'm pretty bloody old and I never making those little groaning sounds. Guess it has to do with me be all resilient and tough. Tough as nails, I am." Spike nodded his head and closed his eyes. "I'm not gonna' bloody bow out of the race. I'm gonna' win it and take home the gold. I'll take that wanker, Penn, on and his little dog too. I *will* be the last man standing. You just watch." Spike's jaw was clenched, by the end of his little speech, and his hands were balled up, at his sides.  
  
"Honey, I tried to follow you, as best as I could, but you were mixing euphemisms. I got lost somewhere around the Wizard of Oz remark." Lorne was two seconds away from downing the drink he had put down, only moments before. Maybe Spike was right. He was relying on alcohol too much. What he really needed was some pot. "So you put Fred in the room next door?"  
  
"Yeah, she's a sweetie. Isn't she?"  
  
Lorne couldn't help but smile at Spike's tone of voice. "I suppose it was your turn to fall in love with her."  
  
"I'm not in love." Spike turned a glaring eye at Lorne and growled. "I know what being in love feels like and it bleedin' hurts. This is a nice feeling. I care about her in a... brotherly way. I feel for her, what I felt for Little Bit. It's completely different than being in love. She's not tearing my heart apart." Spike crossed his arms across his chest and turned his back on Lorne.  
  
"Oh. Well, Doll, I wasn't being so literal about the 'in love' comment. We all feel it for her. This affection. She's a sweet, intelligent, refreshing little girl. Why wouldn't we?" Lorne exhaled slowly. "Sheesh... I didn't even have to hear you sing to feel the vibes off of that one. Spike, you have got to let some of this pain out. You're going to go postal, if you aren't careful."  
  
"I'm saving it."  
  
"What?" That was a new one.  
  
"I'm saving it." Spike reiterated. He seemed to believe that the small statement explained his whole mindset.  
  
"What in the world would you be saving so much... crap?"  
  
"Penn, of course. He gets here and I am going to unload into him. He has ruined my week and I am going to, bloody well, make him pay." Spike turned back toward Lorne and sighed. "He's going to get it."  
  
"Yeah." Lorne nodded. "Or he's going to witness your mental breakdown."  
  
"Look, Lorne..." Spike sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed. "I've gotten this far. So, I had a little bit of a shock. Dru's dead and I was ready to let her essence go. I'll move past it. Buffy... Well, I'm not even going there. Angel... You see, now this is what pisses me off most of all. I get the guy all happy-go-lucky and then penn gets him all dark and broody, again. He's winning out, on that front, and I don't like it."  
  
"I guess you wouldn't."  
  
"Yeah, and how is this for dysfunctional, okay. All I can think is, he may be the oldest, but I'm the favorite and you know what he's thinking? I know he's thinking it too. He's thinking, he is Angelus' favorite, but I will always be the oldest and strongest and fastest... Damn, he is fast." Spike looked slightly less cocky than he had, moments before.  
  
"It'll be okay." Lorne leaned forward and laid a comforting hand on Spike's shoulder.  
  
"Is that a premonition or are you humoring me?" Spike asked, warily.  
  
"A little of both?" Lorne pulled back his hand and shrugged. "Don't worry about it."  
  
A knock at the door startled Spike enough to make him jump out of his seat and lunge at the wooden barricade. He took a deep breath and yanked it open, ready for a fight. Just as he did, Angel barreled in through the door and rammed into his childe. Spike swore and pushed himself back up onto his feet.  
  
"Oh, sorry Spike." Angel brushed off the front of his pant, knowing full well that the motion would piss Spike off. He was so proud of himself, at the moment, that he didn't care. "I have news."  
  
"What? You moving to Uzbekistan?" Spike glared at hi Sire. The jerk was more worried about dusting off his pants, than helping him up off the ground. When he looked up at his Sire's face and caught the grin, though, he realized Angel was just teasing him. "You're an ass."  
  
"So you keep reminding me." Angel grinned, all the more. "I think I know where Penn is."  
  
Spike actually jumped, when he heard. "Truly? That's bloody brilliant, Sire. Now you start telling me about it while I go get my weapons." Spike turned toward Lorne with a grin. "This may turn out to be a pretty good evening after all."  
  
TBC  
  
-Okay, let me remind you that Spike (in this story) has not had some soul- altering light beam thingy cleanse his soul and turn him into charbroiled vampire. He still has issues. The same issues that make us love him and hate those who put him through so much crap. Anyway, thanks for the wonderful reviews. I am so happy, right now, I could just faint. Except, I won't cause I'm not that wimpy... and neither is Spike! Damsel in distress? Yeah right... But remember Penn is a bad bad vamp and I love him to pieces, so... Review some more and we'll see how it goes. Oh, and tell me if you liked Cordy or not. I need the feedback.-  
  
--The subtitle was Starry (Starry) Night, which is a painting by the talented and demented artist Vincent Van Gogh and a song that Josh Groban (who is beautiful, talented and, oh, so wonderful) sings. Both are extremely beautiful.-- 


	13. Empty Chairs

I don't own BTVS or Angel, but I would play paper-rock-scissors for 'em. :) I don't own the guys (or girls) in this story, but I would fight a gaggle of geese for any one of them. All right, I'm about to go crazy. Everywhere I look I see the name 'Spike'. Like on that 'Rugrats Go Wild' movie and the new television station ''Spike TV'. Just thought you should know. Okay, now I need to warn you guys. Some of the stuff coming up may be unpleasant and I'm not going to R rate it, but it could get pretty bad. Not very graphic, but bad. Anyway... Cryptic enough for you? Good.  
  
On with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- Empty Chairs::  
  
"I got sand in me boots." Spike kicked out his right foot and shook it, fiercely.  
  
"What are you doing; the hokey pokey?" Wesley stopped to stare at Spike's little display. He was shaking his left foot now and growling.  
  
"If you two don't hush, you're going to get sand in your mouths." Angel muttered, just within the two men's range of hearing.  
  
"How? I don't remember sand whipping up into my mouth, the last time I was at the beach." Angel shot Spike a look and he nodded, in understanding. "I see. You were making a really wimpy threat, to make us shut up." Spike sighed. "You're stupid, I hope you know."  
  
"Hush." Angel sniffed the air and grunted. "Blood." Angel sniffed the air again and growled. "Penn."  
  
"Umm. Let me guess. Me Spike. You Tarzan?" Spike shook his head and skipped ahead of his Sire. "You're being broody again. Let's make this into a game. Like hide and seek, with killing."  
  
Angel decided to ignore his childe, completely. The only problem was he would keep talking if Angel gave him open silence. "Fred didn't seem too upset when you put her in the cab to Cordy's, did she?" He directed the question at Wesley, in hopes that he would get the hint and carry on the conversation, without complaint.  
  
"No." Wesley obviously didn't get what Angel was attempting.  
  
Angel tried again. "Did you call Gunn and tell him what was up?"  
  
"Yes. I called him and told him about your dream." Wesley grinned and shook his head. "Apparently, he and Cordelia are in the process of trying to coax Connor out of the bathroom. It seems that Gunn explained the process of 'fixing' a cat."  
  
"What a wuss." Spike chortled, but the two men ignored him.  
  
"Why would he do something like that? Isn't that my job department?" Angel stretched his arms out behind his back and grinned up at the night sky.  
  
"What? Explaining difficult things in life, to him?" Wesley asked, with interest.  
  
"No, riling him up." Angel grinned over at the British man, who chuckled under his breath.  
  
"I don't know if that's up to you, or not. It probably has to do with what type of father you are trying to be. Are you more interested in being the stern father figure or the friendly, more of a brother type?" Wesley said, in his all too logical way.  
  
"He already has a brother figure, ta." Spike huffed and stooped down to untie his Doc Martins. "I can rile him up, enough to drive him crazy, if that's what you want." Spike pulled off one boot, after the other, and slipped off his socks. "I hate sand." He picked up his shoes and carried them in the hand that didn't hold a crossbow.  
  
Angel watched Spike closely and shook his head. Some people would sit in agitated silence, if they were upset. Others would talk about it. Spike took the most annoying approach; he sulked, loudly. "Let's check out that abandoned beach house, over there." Angel pointed over to the right and started in that direction.  
  
"How do you know that it's abandoned?" Wesley asked, as he rushed to keep up with Angel's fast pace.  
  
Angel threw an amused glance back at Wesley, making the man nod. "You forget I'm *special* sometimes, don't you?"  
  
Wesley rolled his eyes. "Special can be a relative term, you know."  
  
Spike grinned. "Relative to what, is the problem. In this situation, mental capacity is the most logical place my mind jumps."  
  
"Shut up, Will." Angel tried not to smile, but failed. He just made sure Spike didn't see him. Sometimes Spike's small annoyances could be funny, when he tried to be humorous himself.  
  
Spike shrugged and dropped his boots in the sand, at the bottom stairs, of the house. "So Tarzan, do you think my adversary is in there?"  
  
"No." Angel shook his head. "But I do think he's been staying here. It's also possible that he'll be back. He like familiarity." Angel started up the stairs and looked back at Spike. "Why, don't you stay here and keep an eye out..."  
  
Spike shook his head and pushed Angel up the stairs. "I'm coming with." Spike looked over at Wesley, who nodded and stood guard, at the bottom of the stairway. "Besides, I'm not sure I remember what Penn looks like. Last thing I need is for some wanker to sneak up on me and stake me in the back."  
  
"He wouldn't do that. He wants to torture you, first."  
  
"Stop warning me Angelus. I know what you think is going to happen to me and it's not going to happen."  
  
Spike and Angel stopped on the porch and looked around. The smell of blood was thick in the air. A glass doorway was left open, only a few feet away from where they were standing. Spike took a step toward the open doorway and stopped when Angel grabbed his shoulder. "Be careful." Was all he said.  
  
Spike knew his Sire would follow close behind, but he was given full reign in this 'assignment', with just those two words. Spike crept toward the door and opened it, slowly. He took a step inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. Just as he did this, Angel flipped on the light. "Damn you, Angel. Are you trying to blind me?" He growled.  
  
"Chill." Angel took a step past his irate childe and looked around the room. He hissed in disgust.  
  
"Did you just say 'chill'? That was creepy, Angelus. Don't ever do it again." Spike rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands and opened them, letting them readjust to the light. "Oh, bollucks. This is disgusting. Even animals don't sleep in their own filth."  
  
The room was trashed, ceiling to floor. Moth-eaten sheets hung over the windows, all around the room. Cockroaches hissed and skittered across the floor, in an attempt to hide themselves, from the light. A bed, which seemed to have been used as a giant sponge to soak up blood, lay in the corner. Spike walked over to the bed and grimaced. On the other side, laid a litter of puppies. Their insides were hollowed out and refilled, with what seemed to be shiny stones. Their stomachs were flapping open. Spike almost had the urge to take the small animals and give them a decent burial. Six dead puppies, one young woman, and a rat had died, so far. What did it all add up to?  
  
Spike turned toward Angel, who was stooped at the other side of the room, reading out of a small book. "It's a journal." Angel took a deep, cleansing breath and read. "Today, I found the perfect man. He was a big hulking man, large and over-powering. He put up quite a fight. He reminded me..." Angel swallowed hard. "... of my Sire. I almost changed him, but I decided that he was unworthy, at the last minute. His last words were 'Tell her I'm sorry.' Maybe I'll try to find out who 'her' is. One thing is for certain, though. I'm going to stick with someone less powerful and more intelligent. I need someone I get on with, someone that compliments me, not just physically, but mentally, as well." Angel put down the book and shook his head. This was his creation... his son.  
  
"He's psychotic. He has to die." Spike reiterated his earlier opinion. After starring at the mess for another moment, Spike continued through the room and headed around a counter that led into a small kitchenette area. He glanced around the area and realized that all the cabinet doors had been pried off of their hinges. "Oh gods." Spike dropped to his knees and reached into an open cabinet, pulling out a piece of paper. "Pretty picture. Angel, I suppose this is yours?"  
  
Angel walked over to his childe's stooping form and looked over his shoulder. "Yep." Angel reached down and pulled the picture out of Spike's grasp. It was the charcoal drawing he had done, of Spike, only nights before.  
  
"It's good." Spike's shoulders slumped. "Looks like me. Looks like me, when I'm scared."  
  
"No, not scared. You were unsure. Vulnerable looking." Angel shook his head. "But still you had those stubborn eyes." Angel smirked. "That's why he took it. That's what he wants to see."  
  
"Well, he's going to be so very glad." Spike stood up from his stooping position and brushed off the seat of his pants. "If it's stubborn he wants, it's stubborn he'll get. Gimme' your knife."  
  
"What are you going to do?" Angel asked suspiciously.  
  
"I'm going to return the favor and leave this bugger a prezzie. Now, gimme' your knife."  
  
Angel handed Spike his knife, reluctantly. It wasn't that he didn't trust Spike. He just didn't trust the grin that had snuck over his childe's features.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Penn dropped the young man, who was slumping in his arms. He looked down at the pale face and lifeless eyes and wondered what he had seen in this one. There was always something, of course. Nobody killed without reason: Human, animal, or demon. Well, some humans did, but not him. There was always something that drew him. He just forgot what it was, sometimes.  
  
Penn walked down the sidewalk and looked up the stars. It would be moments, seconds perhaps, until someone found the young man slumped against the wall, there. They would either assume that he was a homeless boy, sleeping on the sidewalk, or that he was a drunken teen, passed out against the wall.  
  
Penn sniffed the air and grinned. He could smell the ocean, already. He loved living on the beach. The room he slept in had no windows that let in direct sunlight, especially since he put up those curtains. They were a good idea, he decided. Sometimes people would walk by and try to peak in the house. That was a bad thing, during the day. He could only hope that someone would wonder in at night, though. He usually left the door open, just in case a homeless person would wonder in off the streets. They always made nice midnight snacks.  
  
"Hey, honey, want a friend tonight?"  
  
The girl was no older than fourteen, Penn decided. "No thank you, Judy. I don't need a friend."  
  
The girl smiled in, what most probably found, an enticing manner. "My name's not Judy, doll, but it could be..." The girl sauntered over to Penn and rubbed up against him. "..if you like."  
  
Penn shook his head and pushed the girl away. "I don't like."  
  
The girl put on a pretty little pout and turned away. "All right, then." She repositioned herself against the wall she had been leaning on and sighed, loudly. "Too bad. You were the prettiest person to pass me by, all night long."  
  
"Really?" Penn gave the girl a harsh little smile. "I saw a little girl on the next street over, who offered to be my sex slave for the whole night. She was, at least, twice as pretty as you. Her legs reached up to here..." Penn made a chopping motion at his neck. ".and she had lips that were rich and red. You look slightly used, darling. I don't know a man, with good taste, who would touch such a disgusting little guttersnipe, like you."  
  
The girl's face turned pale, as Penn told her his opinion. The worst decline she had ever received was a no. She never expected anyone to lay into her, like that. "Okay, I get it. You think I'm ugly."  
  
"No, not particularly. You are filthy, though. A disgusting little tramp. A sick perversion on what women are supposed to be, with your short skirt and tall boots. What is that piece of cloth supposed to be? A shirt?" Penn tugged on the shirt and smiled at the gasp it pulled out of the girl. "Who are you supposed to be kidding? You let men undress you for milk money, but you become the fragile flower, when a man who isn't interested in you for sex, touches you?"  
  
"Leave me alone." The girl backed up against the wall and started to cry. "It's not like I... I didn't want... I..." The girl gasped for air, but it seemed that her lungs wouldn't cooperate. She wasn't sure, but in the dim light from the street lights she thought she had seen the man's eyes glow. Fear gripped her heart.  
  
Penn pulled the girl into his chest and hugged her. "You poor, sick, filthy child." The girl tried to pull herself out of Penn's grasp, but she failed. He held her tighter, pushing her face into his torso. He squeezed her tighter, until his arms became a crushing vice. The girl gasped, as her ribcage was crushed against Penn's unyielding body. Penn wasn't satisfied until the girl sighed out her last breath. "You're free now." He muttered into the girl's hair, as he kissed her temple. He dropped her to the ground, as he had the man, only moments before.  
  
It was starting to get insatiable. This hunger for death. It wasn't a hunger for blood. That he could deal with. He was truly wanting to kill so may different things, at all moments of the day and night. He figures if he could kill something, virtually indestructible, it may quench this need.  
  
Penn walked away from the crushed form, of the girl he had just killed, and headed toward home. He sighed and shook his head. Virtually indestructible. What was a constant throughout the years? What had always stuck around?  
  
Angelus was ensouled and unsouled as fast as the direction of the wind could change. People died all the time. The ocean would rise and fall. The sun grew hotter and the clouds thinned out. Comedians weren't always funny, policemen weren't always the good guy, and vampires were not always blood sucking fiends. Nothing was a constant in his life. Except maybe one thing. Spike. Yes, he was as easy to kill as any master vampire, but Spike had something that stuck with him, whether he had a soul or not. His will. He had a determination that couldn't be touched. He was so resolute about how he felt on any and every subject. Penn wanted to tear it apart. Kill it, so to speak. He wanted to break him; break William the Bloody.  
  
Before Penn knew it, he was at the foot of his staircase. He headed upstairs and stopped on the porch. He turned toward the ocean and smiled out at the waves. They lapped up against the beach and ran back toward the reefs, over and over. They were a constant, until the change of seasons. Well, he decided, by that time, I will be long gone. Penn took a deep breath and almost choked on it. Angel. Spike. Here. His mind flashed danger signals at him, as he turned his back toward the lapping waves. He prowled toward the open doorway and peered into the darkness. The smell was fading away. They were no longer inside. Why? Had they not realized it was his place?  
  
Penn walked in the doorway and turned on the light. "Shit." His journal was pierced to the wall with a sharp knife. Carved into the wall, next to it, was a message signed in blood. All it read was, 'BRING IT ON BRO!', but the signature was what sealed the deal. It was signed, WILLIAM.  
  
TBC  
  
-Thank you, so much for all the lovely reviews! I hope you were ready for this chapter progression. If you felt that that last kill was unnecessary, I apologize. The truth is, I just felt the need to show how crazy Penn really is. I was actually starting to feel sorry for my own characterization of him, and that really pissed me off... forgive my language. Anyway, it was bound to happen and it's bound to get more intense, as I proceed. *shrug* Hey, if you like. Tell me. If not... you can tell me too. I'm not prejudice. Anyway, thank you so much, guys! I love you all.-  
  
('Judy' is an old term for prostitute, originating in England. That's why Penn called the young girl Judy, not because he thought that was her name.)  
  
--The sub-title was called 'Empty Chairs' which is a song by Don McLean. Apparently, I unintentionally named my last two chapters after two other Don McLean songs. Well, I figured third times a charm. Hope I'm right.-- 


	14. Farmhouse

I don't own BTVS or Angel but I would give up my entire collection of jewelry and scarves for them. I don't own the men or women in this fic, but if I did I would use my entire collection of jewelry and scarves on them. :) Anyway, I'm going on vacation soon and I won't have anything up for a little while. I tried to take the request of having more people in this chapter and making it longer, in to consideration. I really don't think I wrote it that much longer, but I tried. I also wanted to make it slightly humorous... A small break in tension. Plus, it's fun to write the guys when they're happy or joking. I really don't want to write the most tense parts of the story, while I'm on a deadline like this. Well, here we go.  
  
On with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- Farmhouse::  
  
"Son of the Queen, bloody martyring bastard, hell!" Spike jumped up and down, while holding his forearm close to his chest. "Why didn't you tell me the bleedin' weapon was tipped in poison?"  
  
Angel chuckled morbidly. "I didn't think you were dumb enough to slice open your own arm. Apparently, I underestimated you, as per usual."  
  
"You always do that. Why do you think that is?" Spike licked his cut, like a wounded dog. He hoped that the healing properties, in his saliva, would cancel out the poison from the knife Angel had handed him.  
  
"You're just very unpredictable. What can I say?" Angel grabbed Spike's arm and shook his head. "Don't say a word." Angel worked up the inside of his mouth and leaned over Spike's extended arm. He pulled it to his face and gave the wound a sturdy lick, up and down.  
  
Spike's mouth hung open, as he witnessed his Sire lick his arm. Then, he felt a tingle reach from his arm all the way toward his spine. "Ee-yow!" Spike tried to yank back his arm, from the shock, but Angel just held it still, so he could lean back and inspect it once more. "What was that?"  
  
"Sire blood. Don't say anything." Angel narrowed his gaze at his childe and let go of the injured appendage.  
  
Spike shook his head and hugged his arm to his chest. "Wouldn't dream of it." He muttered, as he began to pace. "So, on a lighter note, what do you think I should do about Penn? Torture him or just kill him and be done with it?" Spike's laugh was on the verge of sounding maniacal, but he really didn't care. "I think I'd like to draw it out... the pain, that is."  
  
Angel shrugged and slumped down into the couch behind him. "If you can catch him, I suppose you can do whatever you want."  
  
Spike scoffed, with exasperation. "Well, aren't you the dour pessimistic pouf I've always pegged you for?"  
  
"Yes, he is." Gunn waltzed into the room, letting the door slam behind him. He grinned at the two vampires and laughed. "I'm returning your son, Fangboy. He's outside with Skittles. The stupid cat jumped out of the car and ran up a tree. You'll never guess what happened after that."  
  
"Let me guess. Little brother magically transformed into a monkey in front of your very own eyes?" Spike grinned as the man nodded. "Yup. He can't just leave the cat up there. Now, can he?" Spike shook his head. "He's like his dad. Don't matter if kitten is happy or not. He has to make sure he's happy with kitten."  
  
"What are you talking about, Spike?" Angel asked, his own exasperation evident.  
  
"Just making an observation, Sire."  
  
"Well, why is it that every time you make an observation I can't figure out what the hell you're talking about?"  
  
"Oh, well that could be because of a collection of reasons. Part of it is cause you're an insensitive git and the other is cause I spent so much time learning from Dru, over the years. She was my savior, yes, but she was bloody nutty."  
  
"Hell, boy, what did ya' learn from her? How to confuse your Sire in ten words or less?"  
  
"Technically, my statement was more than ten words long." Spike grinned at the groan, that statement earned.  
  
"I wish you were alive, so I could kill you."  
  
Spike's grin grew wider. "I knew you were jealous that Dru got the kill and you just got to watch. Voyeurism isn't enough for you, huh?" Spike wagged his eyebrows, causing Gunn to snort.  
  
"I'm starting to think Cordelia is more clairvoyant than she lets on." Gunn sighed. "No, wonder that kid of yours is traumatized."  
  
"That's not why I'm traumatized." Connor strolled into the room, cat stashed under his arm, and soaked to the bone. "It's raining."  
  
"You distressed over a little rain?" Spike cast a look over at his Sire and shrugged. "Poor boy would have never made it in England." Angel just nodded in agreement.  
  
"No, Spike. I meant that I don't care if you and dad are..." Connor waved his free arm in the air, in a vague motion. "...you know." Connor lifted his pet up to his face and sighed. The poor thing looked like a drowned rat. It meowed, sadly and Connor brought it to his chest. "I'm upset that Gunn wants to extract my kitten's balls."  
  
Angel's mouth dropped open and Spike laughed. He looked over at his Sire and it only made him laugh harder. That was a look of Angel shock... but what was he shocked over? Was it the fact that his son thought that they were... Ha! Now, that was a laugh riot! Or was it because Connor had said balls? He was more surprised that the kid used the word extract, himself. Kids, nowadays, were pretty dumb.  
  
Angel shook his head. Him and Spike... what? And Gunn wanted to do what? Which was a safer question. *Ball Extraction for 1000, Alex.* "Gunn wants to do what?"  
  
"He called it fixing, but I call it cruel." Connor hugged his kitten and glared at the amn beside his father. "What say you?" He narrowed his gaze and stuck out his chin.  
  
"Umm..." Gunn started. What was he supposed to say? He was sorry? Hell, no. Connor was looking at him kind of evil, though. That couldn't be good. Not good, at all. "...sorry?"  
  
"Ugh!" Connor threw an arm up into the air and let out a string of expletives, directed at the bane of his kitten's balls. {Hehe. I'm sorry. I had to say it!}"We're getting a shower. You people make me sick." Connor stomped up the stairs, gracelessly and head toward his room. Everyone stood in silence, until they heard a door slam.  
  
"We make him sick? He bathes in the same water as that monster." Spike scrunched up his nose in distaste. "Almost as gross as you and Dar..."  
  
"It continuously running water, Spike." Angel shot an annoyed look at his childe. "He sounds like you, when he's stomping up those stairs."  
  
"Hey, don't look at me." Spike threw his hands up in a surrendering fashion. "He's your son."  
  
"God!" Gunn pulled a disgusted look. "You sound like old people."  
  
"We are old people." Spike grinned.  
  
"Old married people." Gunn clarified.  
  
"Well, how cheap do you think I am?" Spike crossed his arms across his chest and snarled. "I'm not marrying anyone until I get a ring." Spike looked at his left hand, in thought. "By the by, I would be the husband."  
  
"You lie." Angel looked alarmed. "I'm *so* much manlier than you!"  
  
Spike shook his head. "Are not."  
  
"Am too." Angel insisted.  
  
"Are not."  
  
"Am too."  
  
"Are not."  
  
"Am..."  
  
"I'm sorry, but are you two fighting over who would be the man in your relationship, if you were hitched?" Gunn was getting more frightened, as time progressed.  
  
Wesley and Lorne had been listening from the kitchen and decided to join in on the fun, while there was fun to be had. "Angel would be the man." Lorne grinned at the three 'men' who turned their attention toward him. "No offence, Spike."  
  
"None bloody taken." Spike frowned.  
  
"I disagree." Wesley shrugged. "I think Spike would be the more macho party in their... party." Wesley caught the snarl that Angel was forming. "I don't believe that the Lore applies any more, now does it?"  
  
"Good point. Thank you, Wes." Spike grinned at the British man and stuck his tongue out at his Sire.  
  
"Thanks for jumpin' in, English. Like we needed you and Lorne, to make this any weirder than it already is." Gunn looked over at the two vampires and shook his head. "I hate vampires."  
  
"I think you lost a member of your fan club, Saint Angelus." Spike looked down at his arm and realized it was closing, quite nicely. "Thanks, Peaches!" He said with a grin.  
  
Angel quirked a brow. "Haven't heard that one in a long time."  
  
"That's cause I know you don't like it. I could call you a lot worse, you know."  
  
"I doubt you could do much worse than Peaches, Spike."  
  
"God, the man just asks for it, don't he?" Spike took a deep breath and started. "You, sir, are an artless, bawdy, yammering, lumpish, tosser. You're a dimwitted, ill-fated, hell-hated, pouf. That good enough for you... Peaches?"  
  
Angel shook his head. "You are a brazen, cheeky, little whelp. You were sent from hell to torment me and the bastards didn't leave a return address. That's the only reason I don't send you back."  
  
Spike screwed up his face. "I'm not too awfully little."  
  
Angel laughed and laid his head back against his seat. "We should probably get ready for my other wayward childe."  
  
Spike gave Angel a sturdy kick in the shin, causing the older man to squeak. "I'm not wayward, neither. I've been behaving myself, ta."  
  
Angel nodded and pulled his leg up to him, so he could rub the bruised area. "Okay, Spike, I see your point."  
  
Wesley was leaning up against the lobby desk and smiling over at Lorne. "They're a mess."  
  
"You talk about 'em like you're their older brother, pet." Lorne smiled, as he said the word. It rolled right off of his tongue, as if he had always said it... just like that. He leaned over and picked up his cup, bringing it to his mouth and sipping.  
  
"I thought you were supposed to drink cold drinks in glasses." Wesley was watching Gunn pace, back and forth, worry etched across his brow. The guy really did worry too much. It kind of reminded him of himself only months ago.  
  
".and it bothered him, so I decided to cut back. Don't know why, really." Lorne shrugged and looked over to catch Wesley deep in thought. "Plus, I really love when penguins slide down the banisters."  
  
Wesley nodded, at whatever Lorne had just said.  
  
"Thought so." Lorne patted Wesley's shoulder and the man flinched. "Loosen up, or you are going to snap like a wire wound too tight." Lorne took another sip of his coffee and grimaced. Stupid Spike, he thought. "I need more sugar." Lorne made his way back into the kitchen, to fix his drink.  
  
"So, guys, are we going to go get the baddie or not?" Gunn asked, trying to push the last conversation they had, into the back of his mind.  
  
"Already taken care of." Spike grinned. He held up his arm for Gunn's inspection and the younger man winced.  
  
"Aw, man. He got you pretty good, huh? It kinda' looks inflamed."  
  
Spike shook his head and looked at the wound. "Naw. Actually, I cut too deep. This is looking lots better in comparison to earlier."  
  
"Wait." Gunn put up his hand and gave in to his confusion. "*You* cut too deep? You mean you did that to yourself?"  
  
"He's a moron." Angel threw in casually.  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are too."  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Are too."  
  
"I'm going to stop there, because I'm more mature than this." Spike stuck his nose up in the air and sniffed. "Hmm... Someone smells like flowers."  
  
"That would probably be me." Connor walked down the stairs, a towel draped around his shoulders. Skittles stumbled down the stairs, on his heals. Connor stretched toward the ceiling and sighed. He dropped his arms to his side and looked down at his cat, just as it landed on its fuzzy little face. He looked like a giant black and white cotton ball. "I gave him a bath and blow dried him. He's been falling down, ever since." Connor shook his head, when the kitten picked itself up and collapsed again. "He must be tired. He ran around Cordy's all day long."  
  
"Well, I hope you're well rested." Spike grinned cheekily. "I expect you to watch my back, when I fight Penn."  
  
"I thought you would want me to watch your back." Angel frowned.  
  
"Yeah, I want you to, but you said it yourself; you can't kill him. I want him dead."  
  
Gunn shook his head and sighed. "Well, I guess I better get back to watching the girls. They are probably beating my score on Tetris, by now." Gunn went to the door and looked back at the other occupants, in the room. "Just call me if you need anything."  
  
Angel nodded at the man and gave a small wave. He turned back toward his childe and sighed, while running a hand through his hair. "Hope we won't need him."  
  
"We won't." Connor assured his father. "Between all of us..." Connor threw a look over at Lorne, who was walking back into the room, blowing the steam off of his cup. "Between almost all of us, we should be fine."  
  
Lorne looked up and caught the other guys staring at him. "What?"  
  
The front doors bust open, causing the men to jump. Gunn fell in through the doorway and gasped. "He..." He stumbled forward and landed on his hands and knees.  
  
Angel jumped up from his chair and rushed toward the man, who was coughing violently. "He's bleeding." Angel gathered the man up in his arms and carried him to the couch. "Get the first aid kit and a towel! Get a towel!"  
  
Wesley had rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the first aid kit, the moment Gunn had fallen through the doorway. He came back, with the supplies and knelt by Angel. "What do you think..."  
  
"Penn." Angel muttered, under his breath.  
  
"Damn it all!" Spike watched his Sire hold the small dishtowel to the side of Gunn's kneck and shook his head. "It all my fault. Death follows me."  
  
"Shut up, Spike." Angel sighed. "It's not your fault."  
  
"It is!" He insisted. "I'm going to make it right, too!" Spike hurried toward the door and grabbed his jacket off of the coat hanger. "What was it they said before the fox hunt, in old England?" Spike flashed a mischievous look toward Wesley. The man shook his head and Spike nodded. "Oh, yeah. Talley-ho." With that Spike headed out in search of the fox.  
  
TBC  
  
-Thank you for the reviews. Thank you for the patience. I love writing this story. It keeps me imaginative. Plus, it feeds my craving for Spike and Angel, while it's off-season for 'Angel'. Anyway please review.-  
  
--The subtitle was Farmhouse, which is a really great song by Phish. You should listen to it.-- 


	15. Too Much Love Will Kill You

I don't own BTVS or Angel, partly because I wasn't home when they were being put up on E-BAY. I suppose that's what I get for going out of town. I don't own any of the men or women in this fic, mostly because owning people is illegal and wrong... but if I did own them we would whoop it up, you know what I'm saying? No, I don't suppose you do. *sigh* Anyway, Joss is on vacation, I just got off of vacation, and I really hope you guys don't feel about me the way I feel about him, right now. (Obviously, I can't wait until next season's Angel.) Ahem... Well, I guess it's time to be...  
  
On with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- Too Much Love Will Kill You::  
  
"How very ironic." Spike muttered to no one in particular. It had taken Spike a couple of seconds to catch onto Penn's trail and he had spent twenty minutes tracking him, just to end up in an abandoned warehouse. "Do any of you 'ultimate evils' out there have an imagination?" Spike asked out loud. "I mean really! I have fought so many battles, in so many warehouses. You would think that I wouldn't be the only one tired of this old platitude." Just as he had said it the warehouse doors slammed shut, behind him. "Right." Spike shook his head in frustration.  
  
"Come on, Spike. You had to have seen that one coming. Seeing as how you are the expert on warehouse rumbles." Penn was leaning over the banister, watching Spike down below. Spike was stalking about the room, stealthily peaking around boxes. "What's wrong, Spike? Can't tell where my voice is coming from?"  
  
Spike stopped in his tracks and focused all of his energy on Penn. "What happened to you, that made you wanna' kill me so much?" Spike clenched his fists, at his sides and let them go, then repeated the action.  
  
Penn didn't move. He just stared at his 'brother' and waited. The vampire had always been so unpredictable. Who knew what was going to happen in the end? "I died."  
  
"That wasn't my bloody fault!" Spike whipped his head around and searched the darkness more closely.  
  
"Oh. Temper, temper." Penn cooed. Penn slinked his way around the balcony, watching Spike all the while. "What's wrong with your vision? You can't see me in the dark?"  
  
"Oh, I can see." Spike smirked, to himself. "Maybe I'm just looking for something else." Spike grinned into the darkness and glanced up to where he knew Penn would be. "Hello."  
  
Penn leaned his elbows against the railing and put his chin in his hands. "Hi."  
  
"Isn't it about time we finished this?" Spike didn't like the peaceful look on Penn's face. Penn was supposed to be in a rage. He was supposed to be a raving lunatic. "Why are you hiding up there? You scared?"  
  
"How low have you reached?" Penn stood up straight and gripped his hands behind his back. "Sinking so deep in your own wretchedness, that you think you can simply make me upset and force me into an attack."  
  
Spike arched a brow and sighed. "I think you tried putting more than one thought into that sentence. Dru used to do that. She was nuts." Spike nodded slowly and bit his bottom lip.  
  
Penn's nose flared, but there was no other outward sign that he had even heard Spike's comment. Then, he smiled. "She did do that didn't she? That is... before I killed her."  
  
"You son of a bitch. You are..." Spike took a deep, unneeded breath and let it out in a hiss. "...not going to get the best of me."  
  
"She cried out for you, if it makes you feel any better. Well, she called out for her daddy. I only supposed that was you. It is right?" Penn smiled sweetly and, all but, batted his eyes. He stopped, when he heard Spike growl. "It's not? Then, who could it be?" Penn grinned knowingly. "All roads lead to Angelus, don't they?"  
  
"They always have." Spike snarled. "You just figuring it out?"  
  
"You sound jealous." Penn took a few steps toward the stairway, which led down from the balcony.  
  
"Not jealous. Resigned. I've always known who was the figurehead in the family, between the two of us. The thing is, Angelus is on sabbatical and Angel is in control." Spike watched Penn, as he reached the top of the stairs. "So, we gonna' fight or what? I'm tired of just shooting the breeze. I want blood and guts covering this floor, preferably yours."  
  
"I don't want to fight you, Spike." Penn took a soft breath and sighed.  
  
"What you wanna' do, mum? Kiss me goodnight and tuck me into bed?" Spike grimaced, when he caught the sly grin spreading across Penn's face. "You are a sickie."  
  
"You used to find me amusing. Oh wait." Penn looked thoughtful. "No, you didn't. I found you amusing. You found me imposing." Penn smiled smugly. "You still find me slightly impressive, doncha'?"  
  
"You conceited prick." Spike couldn't hold back the snarl. "Why did Angelus sire you in the first place?"  
  
"Probably because I'm so very pretty." Penn stopped to think a moment and then shook his head. "No, it's most likely because I'm so talented."  
  
As quick as Spike could blink, Penn was out of sight. "Oh, you want to play hide and seek, do you?" Spike sniffed the air and shrugged. "Well, I guess we'll play then." Spike headed up the stairs, stealthily. It was mostly a matter of pride that made him keep quiet. He knew that, most likely, Penn was watching him make his way upstairs, but there was no reason he should be able to hear him.  
  
"Spike."  
  
It was a whispered breath across the back of Spike's neck. He whipped his arm about, hoping to get a hit in, but to no avail. Penn had already moved from sight. "Okay, I admit. That's creepy." Spike heard a stifled chuckled and sprinted toward the sound. "Come on, Penn. Let's finish this."  
  
"All right."  
  
Spike turned toward the voice, just to have a fist land in his jaw. The next punch came, but Spike was ready. He blocked the jab and grabbed Penn's arm at the wrist and the elbow.  
  
Penn grinned and shook his head. He used his free arm to backhand Spike across the mouth.  
  
Spike freed his hands and growled. He jumped back to get a bit of perspective. Then, he took the chance and leapt at Penn's throat. He used all of his power, and succeeded in knocking the older vampire off of his feet. Penn lay sprawled beneath Spike's rigid form. Spike let loose a series of punches and jabs, aimed at Penn's face. The older vampire just laughed.  
  
Penn pressed himself into the ground and braced his legs. He took an unneeded breath and jerked his whole body up off the floor. Spike fell to the ground and Penn watched him collapse hap hazardously, as he idly licked at his bleeding lip.  
  
Spike shook off the dizzy feeling, the fall had given him, and jumped up on his feet. "Ready to get whipped?" Spike pulled up his fists and hopped from one foot to the other.  
  
Penn feigned a yawn and cracked his neck from side to side. "You promise to try this time? I'm starting to get bored."  
  
Spike grunted, as he kicked Penn in the gut. He put all of his force into it and accomplished knocking Penn back into a large wooden crate.  
  
Penn pushed himself up off of the crate and groaned. He shook his head and set demon eyes on Spike's unmoving form. "You're stronger than you used to be." He snarled.  
  
"I used to be a poet. Lost my lyrics a long time ago, ta. Gained some brawn as I got older." Spike was jumping in his spot, as he watched his 'brother's' face slowly morph into its natural form. "Never seen it take that long to go from one face to the other." Spike said with a slight tone of wonderment.  
  
"Aww. Come on, Spike." Penn purred through newly sharpened teeth. "I'm starting to think that you're not really into this." Penn grinned lasciviously. "You want to put this off? You know, until you're ready to commit to this fight?"  
  
"No. I'm ready." Spike shook his head. "I'll wipe the floor with you."  
  
"Then do it." Penn growled and lunged at Spike, catching the younger vampire off balance. "I'd like to meet the darker side of you, my boy." Penn had Spike's shoulders and hips pinned beneath his weight. His knees pressed into Spike's jutting hipbones, in a crushing fashion, and his hands smashed his shoulder blades into the cement floor.  
  
Spike howled at Penn, as he used Angelus' pet name for him. "I'm not your boy!" Spike squirmed and swore, when he realized his strength was no match for Penn's.  
  
"Not yet." Penn hissed at the struggling form, beneath him. "Not yet."  
  
Spike howled, as he felt a sharp object plunge into his chest.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~  
  
Angel swore, as he pressed the damp cloth against Gunn's gaping neck. "He got you good."  
  
"You don't have to tell me that." Gunn winced, when Angel decided to apply more pressure to his injury. "Hey do you think you could let someone else take over? You aren't exactly Mother Teresa, ya' know."  
  
Angel nodded, in agreement. "Spike probably needs my help, anyway."  
  
"Spike wanted me to be there for him." Connor stood there staring daggers into his father's back, while gripping his kitten under its front legs and letting its body dangle, against his side.  
  
Angel turned and looked his son up and down. "Yes, he did. I was just humoring him... and you, by letting you both think that was going to happen." Angel narrowed his gaze at his son and gave him the 'father knows best' look, which is inherent in most father figures. "I need to know where *all* of my children are. I would appreciate it if you were to cooperate and stay with Gunn and Lorne. Wesley will check on the girls, right?" Angel cast Wesley a glance. Wesley just grabbed up his coat and headed for the door. "How about you?" Angel looked back toward his son.  
  
Connor nodded slowly and put his kitten down in Gunn's lap. "Give me the cloth. I can play nurse, just as well as you can."  
  
"I hope you're gentler." Gunn murmured under his breath. He was tired from the loss of blood. Angel had informed him that, most likely, Penn hadn't drank from him... he had probably just ripped out his throat. Gunn was starting to understand those people from PETA, who always fought against killing animals for sport. "I'm spent."  
  
Connor nodded and swiped at the wound, softly. "Just rest." Connor looked down at Skittles, who seemed resigned to curl up and sleep on Gunn's slowly moving chest. "We'll keep a watch out. Right Lorne?"  
  
"You've got it snicker-doodle." Lorne smiled at the boy and offered Angel a wink. "We'll be fine. You go save the brat."  
  
Angel nodded and headed out, into the nighttime. Another fight, another childe... Well, technically the same childe, but he was very different from last time. He was attacking at random. He was leaving unfinished attacks. Some of his kills, he hadn't even drank from. There was no rhyme or reason to why he was killing the people he was killing.  
  
Angel sniffed the night air and grinned. He could smell Spike, within a moment. Cigarettes, bourbon, and... blood. Angel ran toward his car and jumped in. He started the ignition and followed the sweet smell of his childe's blood, as it wafted in the air. "I'm coming Spike." He followed the smell until he reached, what seemed to be, an abandoned warehouse. "Oh, the irony. Please stake me now." He muttered, as he jumped out of his car.  
  
"Bloody hell!" The screeched pierced the night air, making Angel wince. His childe was in pain. His other childe was inflicting it. Could he do what was needed, when it came down to... "Screw you, you puritan tramp!"  
  
Angel hurried around the back of the warehouse and found an unlocked door. He opened it stealthily and crept into the room. He made his way around the various boxes and crates and finally found what he was looking for. Spike sat in a chair, tied down and bleeding from almost every cavity. Angel fought the urge to groan. Spike was limp and beaten. If Angel hadn't known better, he would say he looked broken.  
  
Penn walked into the opening and ran his hand through Spike's blood caked hair. Spike shivered violently and spit out a few expletives. "Dirty mouth you have there, boy. Maybe we should clean it out." Penn reared his hand back and bitch-slapped the bounded vampire. (Mwuhaha! I had to do it.)  
  
Spike spit out a mouthful of blood and hissed. "You are going to pay for this."  
  
"Oh... and what are you going to do about it?" Penn smirked. "You going to wait for *my* Sire?" Penn pulled out his switchblade and grinned. "I wonder." He slashed a gap down the side of Spike's face and drank in the painful wince it brought about. He slashed across the line horizontally, forming a cross. It sizzled and bubbled quietly. "Interesting. Does it hurt?"  
  
"Piss off." Spike groaned. Spike looked up at his assailant and caught a glimpse of a dark figure, out of the corner of his eye. Bout time, he thought, with a grin.  
  
"What's so funny?" Penn asked angrily.  
  
"You are so going to pay for this." Spike's grin grew as he slumped down in his seat.  
  
"Am I?" Penn sneered down at Spike's slumping form.  
  
"Yes." A voice in the darkness answered.  
  
"Sire. It's about time you got here." Penn turned toward Angel. "You going to kill me now?"  
  
"If that's what it takes." Angel stepped into the light and sighed.  
  
"Well, I have nothing more to say to you. In the words of Spike, let's finish this." Penn lunged at his Sire and received a blow to the head. It was so forceful that it knocked him stumbling back into Spike. The younger vampire groaned at the contact and proceeded in passing out. Angel grabbed Penn up off of the floor and discarded him over to the side.  
  
Penn tried to pick himself up, but the blow to his skull had knocked him off balance. He watched Angel bend down and untie Spike from the chair. "I spent a good amount of time tying him up, so that he couldn't get loose and now you are undoing all of my work."  
  
"That's my lot in life. Undoing my childer's work." Angel muttered cynically, as he pulled the last knot out. "It's my fault they were here in the first place, so I have to fix what they mess up. Even if it's each other." Angel ran a hand over Spike's bleeding and broken face and shook his head. After a second more, he stood up and looked over at his other 'son'. "All right, let's do this." Angel slipped into game face and lunged at his childe.  
  
Penn dodged the attack and slinked over to Spike's pliant form. He pulled the body up and grunted. Spike was heavier, now that he was just a pile of 'dead weight'. Penn hugged Spike's form to him and grinned at Angel. "A vampire shield. They're the newest things this season. Everybody's getting one."  
  
Angel growled and reached inside his inner coat pocket. He pulled out a stake and stalked toward his childer.  
  
"You wouldn't risk your *favorite* childe, would you?" Penn smiled knowingly, at his Sire.  
  
"That's not the question you should be asking Penn." Angel's tongue curled around his childe's name, lovingly. "The question is who's the fastest and most accurate out of the two of us." Penn started to open his mouth, to reply, but before he could Angel plunged the stake through Spike's left shoulder and straight into Penn's heart.  
  
"Damn, I hate irony." Penn grunted, right before he burst in a cloud of ash.  
  
"Déjà vu." Angel muttered, as he pulled out the stake and picked Spike's lifeless form up off of the ground. Angel looked down into Spike's sleeping face and sighed, with relief. He was still alive... kind of.  
  
"Did we get 'im." Spike mumbled into Angel's unmoving chest.  
  
"Yup." Angel nodded, even though it would have been lost on Spike, seeing as how his face was burrowing a hole into his torso.  
  
"Good." Spike squirmed in Angel's arms and settled into a sprawling position. "My shoulder hurts."  
  
"Yeah... I'll explain that to you later. You know, when you are feeling better." Angel smiled at the happy little smirk that made its way across Spike's face.  
  
"You stab me?" Spike asked.  
  
"Yup." Angel muttered.  
  
Spike grinned wider and opened his eyes, to gaze up at his Sire. "You can apologize later. You know, after I get up enough strength to thank you."  
  
Angel nodded. "And if anyone asks you killed him?"  
  
"Yup." Spike agreed, as Angel settled him in the car comfortably and he drifted off to sleep.  
  
TBC  
  
-Thank you for the reviews! I had the craziest vacation. The first day our van broke down, it rained every day (so much for The Sunshine State), we had a couple of babies on the trip (literally, of course), and my uncle almost got in a fight with a one eyed German man... Don't ask... but if you do, I'll tell you Anyway, I had fun, all things considered and I hope you didn't miss the story, too awful much. Anyway, tell me how you like the chapter. As you can probably tell the last chapter is coming up... Yeah, well we'll see if I feel inspired to write any more stories.-  
  
--The subtitle was Too Much Love Will Kill You, which is a song by Queen. The were and are the greatest band ever. Talent and intelligence... Mmm.-- 


	16. Shine on You Crazy Diamond

I don't own BTVS or Angel, but I sure have had fun playing with them. I don't own any of the characters in this story, but I sure would enjoy playing with them... Ahem. If Joss were a serial killer, I would be a copycat murderer. Uh-huh... *nods* Hey, I was running out of metaphors. Give me a break. (By the way, Angel Davis, my dear... I'll take that metaphorical money in dollars.) Anyway, thank you for all of the lovely reviews. So... *clears throat*  
  
On with the show.  
  
::The Dalliance of the Eagles- Shine on You Crazy Diamond::  
  
"What happened to you?" Gunn was sitting up on the couch, when Angel walked in the door.  
  
Angel was serving as a crutch for the battered and bruised Spike, when they came in the door. He looked over at his childe, who winced with every pain- filled step and felt his unbeating heart tighten in his chest. "He got hurt."  
  
Spike glared at his Sire, through dark swollen eyes. "Thanks Mr. States the Obvious. I think I can handle the talking thing, from here on in."  
  
"Well, at least he didn't mess up the sarcasm lobe in your brain." Angel smiled, at the glare he received for that comment. "I think you'll be okay. I'll go get you some blood." Angel helped Spike take a seat next to Gunn, who had turned a nice shade of green, when he started inspecting the damage done to the vampire.  
  
"My neck won't look like that, will it?" Gunn asked Spike, who had now closed his eyes and laid his head back.  
  
"I've been turned into a 'shish kaspike' and your worried about a little scarring on your neck?" Spike opened one eye and looked over at the young man. "Pull the rag away and let me have a look-see." Gunn did as he was told and Spike nodded. "He took a chunk out, but don't worry. You'll look rugged and manly, when it's all healed up."  
  
"Yeah, I bet it'll be great with the ladies." Gunn groaned and rubbed at the tender skin around his bite. "I can hear the women now. 'Ooo... what happened to your neck? A dog attack you?' Yeah, that will be the last straw." Gunn shook his head. "I'll kill myself first."  
  
"You could always turn it around to your advantage." Spike offered, agreeably. "You don't have to say you're a vampire hunter. Why not say you saved a small child from a large animal. Don't have to be a dog. A wolf, perhaps?"  
  
"Still a dog." Gunn grumbled, as he crossed his arms across his chest and leaned his head over on his shoulder, to keep the towel in place.  
  
"Al Pacino is very much the type-cast victim. Can he ever be a good guy? The Godfather, Scent of a Woman, Devil's Advocate... He was the devil for heaven's sake!" Lorne rambled, as he walked down the stairs, into the lobby. "Oh, Spike!" Lorne grinned widely, when he noticed the bleach blonde lying on the couch. "You're... bleeding all over the place." Lorne scrunched up his nose, in distaste. He looked around the room, in search of Angel. "Where is tall, dark, and magnificent?"  
  
"Vin Diesel?" Spike smirked, when Lorne rolled his eyes and sighed.  
  
"Not hardly." Lorne made his way over to Spike's side and groaned. "Your clothes are ruined."  
  
"Maybe we'll have to go shopping." Spike chuckled and broke into a fit of coughing.  
  
"What's going on?" Connor asked from the balcony. "Spike!" Connor hurried down the stairs. He tried not to go too fast. It wouldn't do if Spike thought he was really worried, but... he had been really worried. Connor stopped himself, before he could do anything stupid.  
  
"What no hug?" Spike grinned at the boy, who seemed to look rather frazzled. "Where's kitten?"  
  
"Locked in the bathroom." Connor's eyes clouded over. "He was bad."  
  
"Oh, really. I'm sure whatever it was, couldn't have been *that* bad." Spike stated, with confidence.  
  
"He tried to drink Gunn's blood." Connor sniffed. "It's your fault."  
  
"Of course, it is. Why wouldn't it be?" Spike hit the back of his head against the couch and let it bounce a couple of times. "I took your kitty and while you weren't looking, I turned him into an evil vampire cat. Feel better?" Spike sighed and gripped at his shoulder. It felt like a fire was being ignited, right inside the wound.  
  
"No. That's not what I meant." Connor watched Spike's face flicker between vampire and human stances, for a moment, and decided he felt sorry for him. "I just meant that if you hadn't run off, I could have come with you and kitten would have been put up. He wouldn't have even smelled the blood... unless you really did turn him into a vampire cat."  
  
Spike got a hold of himself and grunted. Connor had sounded so serious, that he was forced to open his eyes and look at the boy, before he could tell whether it was a joke or not. He still wasn't positive. "You're kidding."  
  
Connor shook his head. "Yes."  
  
"Brat." Spike picked up the nearest pillow and chucked it at Connor, who dodged it quite effectively.  
  
Angel watched from the doorway, amused. "He's not the one who went out and almost got killed."  
  
"This time." Lorne added.  
  
"Thank you, Lorne." Angel glared at the demon. Connor just sniffed.  
  
"Yes, thank you, Lorne." Spike gave Lorne a dazzling smile that, Lorne decided, made up for the daggers Angel was shooting at him, from his eyes.  
  
"Well, he didn't mess up your smile." Lorne retreated toward the kitchen, were he had stashed a bottle of bourbon.  
  
"Nope." Spike agreed. "But I bit my tongue quite a few times. I'll be spittin' out blood for days."  
  
Angel walked over to Spike and knelt in front of him. "You can't get rid of something that you don't have, Spike." Angel held up a mug of warm blood and pushed it into his childe's hands. "Drink."  
  
"So..." Gunn started. He wasn't sure what to say next, though, that didn't sound too gruesome.  
  
"How did he die?" Connor finished, for him. Connor took a seat on the coffee table and leaned his elbows on his knees.  
  
"Oh well, it was a kind of 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am' sort of deal." Spike offered, as an explanation. Apparently, it wasn't enough. The two young men were giving each other skeptical looks that could only lead to one thing. More questions. Spike sighed. "Here's the scoop. I find him, right? In this abandoned old warehouse. How very imaginative of him, by the- bloody-way. Anyway, he is as fast as light and as quiet as a shadow. So, he's playing these creepy mind tricks on me and it's like I'm up against some Jedi guy, except he's dead and insane. Anyway, we get into a scuffle and I whoop him up real good, you see? But he's fast and agile and he gets the better of me. I'm pinned. Ha!" Spike broke off and went into a small fit of giggles, which resulted in him clutching his side. "Pinned!"  
  
Connor and Gunn sat gaping at the laughing vampire. They both cast their glances over at Angel, who was still crouching in the floor. He just shrugged. "He's had a long night."  
  
"Bloody right, I have!" Spike gasped for an unnecessary breath and sighed. "Where was I?"  
  
"You where pinned." Connor stated, cautiously.  
  
Spike chuckled to himself and nodded. "That, I was. By the by, I'm caught like a bug, who's about to have its wings ripped off. The blighter ties me to a chair and roughs me up a little, yeah?" Spike stopped and looked over at Connor, who was currently seated so far on the edge of the coffee table, that he looked like he could fall off at any moment. "You sure I should be telling you such a creepy story before bedtime? Might mess with your dreams a little."  
  
Connor shook his head and waved the vampire on. "Please, continue."  
  
"Oh, so nice of a request. How could I say no? Anyway, I'm tied up, beat up, roughed up, and suddenly feeling a little nauseous. Then, I see 'im." Spike gave a dramatic pause.  
  
"Who?" Connor asked, eyes wide.  
  
Spike was a little frustrated that Connor messed up his pause and more than a little upset that he wasn't following the story, very well. "Who? Your dad, duh." Spike scoffed at the young man and continued with his story. "Next thing I see is Angel stepping out of the shadows, like the dark avenger. Figured on rescuing, dear old me."  
  
"Did he? I mean did he untie you... or what?" Connor was grinning, ear to ear, as Spike went on with his story. Anyway this story went down, one of the two guys he looked up to the most, were a hero of sorts.  
  
"Well..." Spike started.  
  
"Not exactly." Angel interrupted. "When I walked in Penn heard my coat swish. He turned around and attacked, before I could get over to Spike. Spike took the opportunity to free himself from the ropes and to jump in and yank Penn off of me. Between the two of us, Penn was staked and killed. That's enough information. Goodnight." Angel stood up from his crouching position and offered Spike a hand.  
  
Spike took the proffered hand and winced, as he was pulled to his feet. "Ouch."  
  
"Sorry." Angel muttered, under his breath.  
  
Spike nodded. He understood. "Thank you." He murmured, just as quietly.  
  
"Need help getting to your room?" Angel knew what the answer would end up being.  
  
"No, Angel. I'm a big boy and..." Spike went to take a step and would have fell flat on his face, if Angel hadn't have caught him. "...I could probably use a small hand."  
  
Angel loosened his grip and helped Spike get his balance back. "Right."  
  
Spike cleared his throat and looked back at the others. Gunn was still seated on the couch, looking over at Connor, who looked like he was brooding up a storm. "Well, goodnight all." Connor nodded and looked away, while Gunn just gave smiled and said 'night.  
  
Lorne walked into the room and smiled at the two vampires, who were heading up the stairs. "Sweet dreams."  
  
Angel threw a glance back at Lorne and grinned. "Yeah, I can only hope."  
  
Lorne took a sip of his drink and smiled, warmly. "I have a feeling we've all earned a break."  
  
Spike chuckled, cynically, as they reached the bottom stair. "Yeah, but the 'Powers That Suck' hate us, so we probably should be ready, just in case." Spike took a couple of steps up the stairs and stopped to regain his composure.  
  
Angel shook his head and sighed. "You need me to..."  
  
"Shut up. I need you to shut up. You offer to carry me and I'll castrate you." Spike pushed forward and gave a triumphant whoop, when he reached the top of the stairs.  
  
"All of that for making it up the stairs?"  
  
"All of that for making it up the stairs, without falling on me arse." Spike slumped against the banister. "How far is it to my room?"  
  
"Which one? The one you sleep in?" Spike gave a nod and Angel thought a moment. "One and a half hallways, not including the next flight of stairs."  
  
"Well, bugger me!" Spike exclaimed, in exasperation. "I'm gonna' have to put up camp halfway."  
  
"You're taking the room next to mine. I'm going to have to check in on you, if I expect to get any peace." Angel gave spike a shove in the direction of his room and the vampire stumbled.  
  
"Okay, Sire. I'm going." Spike opened the door to Angel's room, walked in, and made his way over to the chair, next to the bed. He settled down into the cushion and sighed.  
  
Angel followed him in, confusion etched on his face. "This is my room, Spike."  
  
"Yup. You still have those Flying Circus videos or did you give 'em back to Wes?" Spike asked with a small smile.  
  
"When did I have the chance to give them back?" Angel asked. "Between the dead woman and the almost doubly dead you..."  
  
"You have got to get out of California. You sound like a valley girl." Spike pointed at the television. "Put on a movie. I can't sleep, now."  
  
"So, therefore, neither can I?" Angel was amused. Of course, Spike wouldn't want him to sleep yet. Not that he had been planning on it anyway. How could he sleep after the night they had just had?  
  
"You got it." Spike flicked his wrist. "Put it on, slow-poke."  
  
Angel nodded and looked inside the VCR. There was still a tape in it. He pressed play and walked back to his bed, were he lay back and threw a glance over at Spike. "You want to change your clothes or something?"  
  
Spike shook his head. "Nope. You wanna' change my clothes?" Spike looked about as obstinate, as he sounded. "Cause I'm not moving."  
  
"No." Angel shook his head and looked toward the TV. "You want to smell like blood and death, go for it. I can stand it, if you can."  
  
Spike grinned. "I hope so, cause you smell just as rank."  
  
"Stop smelling me." Angel frowned at the flickering TV, which he really wasn't watching.  
  
"You started it." Spike shrugged.  
  
"And I'm finishing it." Angel paused. "Weirdo."  
  
"Creep." Spike threw back at his Sire.  
  
"Punk."  
  
"Thank you." Spike wasn't sure exactly what he was thanking Angel for. Saving his life, not telling the others about it, or just being there with him, while he couldn't sleep.  
  
Angel understood. "You're welcome." Angel reached over and grabbed the remote control. He turned the sound up, just above silence, and chuckled. Michael Palin was behind the desk in a pet store, singing The Lumberjack Song. Angel couldn't help but wonder how things would have turned out if he, as a human, had done something... anything constructive. He wouldn't have been turned, he wouldn't have been a master vampire, he wouldn't have killed all of those people... he wouldn't have met Buffy or Cordelia, he wouldn't have had a son or a family.  
  
Angel looked over at Spike and shook his head. Spike was slumped down in his seat, eyes closed, breathing softly. He wouldn't be alive to experience the headaches and heartaches but, in retrospect, wasn't that why life was worth living?  
  
"You're brooding so loud, that you woke me up. Could you keep it down?" Spike was squinting at Angel, through barely opened eyelids. "Unlike you, some of us heroes need our beauty sleep."  
  
Angel chuckled and turned up the TV. "Sure, Spike." Angel settled back into his pillow and sighed. Well, for the moment, things were okay. If he could just keep things that way, he would have his work cut out for him.  
  
"Angel, what's pale but dark, obnoxious but silent, and is wrapped up in turmoil, disorder, and confusion?" Spike asked. He was the perfect picture of tranquility, with his hands folded across his chest and his head laying back against the chair.  
  
"Riddles?" Angel thought for a moment and drew a blank. "I don't know, Spike. What?"  
  
"You, you silly ponce. Now, if you don't stop thinking I'm going to be forced to cause some turmoil, disorder, and confusion, myself, just to get you to stop thinking. That *will* be all your fault.. Got it?" Obviously, Spike hadn't lost any bit of his ability to simplify the more complex situations and emotions.  
  
"Got it." Angel laughed. Spike was only justifying his feelings that everything would end up all right. Didn't it always?  
  
The End  
  
-Okay, people. I did my part. I finished this story, did I not? Yup. Now, you do your part. Please review. If you have read this story at any point, I would appreciate your feedback. I probably will write again, but I need the moral support, people. Not just that... If you want to E-mail me any ideas you have, I will take them into consideration. I have ideas of my own, naturally, but I need to know whether you like the guys in this atmosphere or if you would prefer I toss 'em together in a different way. I can write something humorous or dark (Yes, I have that talent. I just don't usually release it on civilians.) Anyway, I guess I leave the rest up to you. Thanks!-  
  
--The subtitle was called Shine on You Crazy Diamond', cause I like the song and it felt like it fit. Pink Floyd is my Zen.-- 


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